


Between Our Words

by notevenyou



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Child Abuse, Curses, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, Injury, M/M, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-14 11:26:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 46,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10535520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notevenyou/pseuds/notevenyou
Summary: Aaron Burr has spent his life cursed to tell only the truth, but college offers a brand new start, especially when he meets Alexander Hamilton.





	

Aaron was born into a magical family. Not magical as in wonderful, wealthy, or warm, although those who knew them said they were all those things too. Magical as in gifted with the knowledge and power to make things happen outside the realm of science, and outside the realm of ordinary people.

Aaron’s family, his mother’s side, was one of the most prominent and powerful magical families in the United States and his father was considered fortunate to marry Esther Edwards. She would someday be head of the whole family, and when they married he took her name, and was magically bonded to her family. Their children were expected to carry on the Edwards line, to maintain influence in the complex alliances of magical families, and to have the magical strength common for a member of their clan.

To help them on this path, their children, like all children born into a magical family, were given three gifts on their ninth day. These gifts were based on foresight into the child’s future, to help them achieve that future. When Aaron’s older sister Sally was born, the signs said she would forge new paths for the family, so she was given the gift of Wisdom, to know the right path, Confidence, to take it, and Determination, to hold to her decisions.

When Aaron was born, the second and (as it turned out) final child, the signs were not so clear. Aaron’s father had just died in an unexpected accident, and uncertainty seemed to hang over the family. After much contemplation, the seer said Aaron would someday have a position of power, although more than that she could not determine. Perhaps, his relatives speculated, Aaron would be a leader, not unusual for their family. And so his grandmother gave him Insight, to understand the world, his grandfather gave him Deliberation, so that he would use his knowledge carefully, and his mother gave him Honesty, so that he would be worthy of his power.

Maybe it was the grief she felt for Aaron’s father, who had died only a week before the birth, or maybe it was an early sign of the illness that, although no one knew it yet, would take her in only a few more weeks, but Aaron’s mother cast her blessing with all the force of her considerable magical strength. Too much strength, too much power, and the blessing turned sour, falling on Aaron like a binding, like a curse.

Aaron’s mother might have fixed it if she had lived. Even his grandmother or grandfather might have repaired the damage, but it hide like a seed, only blooming as Aaron grew, and by the time it flowered his grandparents had died as well. He and Sally were shipped off to live with their uncle Timothy. Timothy was their nearest relative, and perhaps it was a kindness for him to take them in, but in other ways it was cruel.

Timothy Edwards, was the rare member of the Edwards clan to be born without magic. It must have been difficult to always be surrounded by what he could never have, and although there were plenty of things a person could do without the gift, plenty of roles to fill for the family, Timothy had wanted none of it, leaving them behind as soon as he was able. Away from his family, he had found religion and, later a wife, Rhoda. Their religion was conservative, firmly against magic in all its forms, and when they took Sally and Aaron in, it was with the goal of educating them about the evils of magic.

And so Aaron was raised largely in ignorance of his family’s history, in ignorance of the good magic could do, and of his own potential power. Timothy even changed Sally and Aaron’s names legally, Burr not Edwards, separating them symbolically from the clan, from a world where a wife could be more powerful than a husband, and leaving Sally and Aaron always aware that they were there on Timothy’s charity.

Aaron and Sally were so young when Timothy took them in, that they might never have known about magic, about their family history if it were not for three things.

The first, was Sally’s vague memories, her recollections of the stories their grandparents had told her. She repeated those stories to herself and to Aaron until they become well-worn, the details blurred, but still familiar on some deep level.

The second was their aunt and uncle’s frequent warnings about the dangers of magic. Why would they be so afraid of something that didn’t exist?

And third, was Aaron’s curse.

It was hard not to believe in magic when Aaron grew old enough to talk but found, for no logical reason, there were things he could not say. That _something_ , some inexplicable thing, stopped his tongue. Stopped him from saying anything untrue.

It was exactly like one of Sally’s stories, no speech impediment, not when he could easily say “no” to one question, but not to the next. Neither was it that Aaron was particularly moral, he wanted nothing more than to lie from the moment he realized he could not. And so, if it was not Aaron, it must be magic. Perhaps, he could have thought it was God, a punishment of some sort, but at five years old God and magic seemed much the same, the Bible stories and Sally’s stories slipping together in Aaron’s mind, the idea of sin quite lost in the mix.

His aunt and uncle, his teachers at school, none of them realized what was wrong, instead they thought Aaron quiet, prone to sullen silences. It was Aaron who pieced it together, only Aaron who knew what he wanted to say in those silences and could not (“Sally did it,” “I’m not tired,” “I already brushed my teeth”). It was Aaron, not even in the first grade, who had to decide what to do about it.

Aaron was young, and he still trusted his aunt and uncle, still believed that they wanted what was best for him, so he told them. Another family might not have listened to him, might have thought it childish imagination, but Timothy knew better.

Timothy still might have done something to help at that point, taken Aaron to a local with magic, to someone from a more distant branch of the family, to an allied family, but he didn’t. In fact, he seemed satisfied in a strange way, and sat Aaron down to tell him that it was divine punishment for using magic, for interfering with God’s works. Never mind that Aaron had been nine days old at the time, never mind that Aaron’s mother had only been trying to give her son a gift. Timothy explained that too, making sure Aaron knows this was his mother’s dying gift, making sure Aaron understands how quickly magic can turn good intentions to bad. After, Sally says otherwise, says that magic _can_ do good, but Aaron, at five and in the years that follow, isn’t that interested in abstract morality.

What _is_ concrete and meaningful to him, is the difficulty of going through life without the ability to dissemble. He can’t tell even white lies, no “it’s nice to see you,” or “I love your new haircut.” He can’t even smooth over his opinions, “I’m not sure I agree with that, but…” No such niceties can make it out of his mouth, and his first few years of school are a constant struggle that leave him at odds with most of his peers.

He learns to be succinct in all things, “No, I didn’t do my homework” is better than trying to offer an explanation and accidentally saying, “No, I didn’t do my homework because I thought it was dumb.” Whenever possible he learns to just comply, to always do the homework, to be so good he never has to try and fail to lie.

Aaron learns his own careful kinds of deception, how to lie with a smile, with intonation. “I hate this,” with a smile is sarcasm, not truth. “I love you,” with that same smile could be rough affection, not a confession.

And finally, most importantly, Aaron learns the power of silence. Words are a minefield, some forbidden, most overly revealing. He learns to avoid them, to keep his peace, to hold his tongue. He gains the reputation of being shy and quiet, but it’s better than being thought rude and awkward, better than over-sharing.

In school, Aaron likes best the classes where his opinion isn’t needed, where finding the right answer is all that’s required - math, and science mostly. Worst are the classes where they debate things, where there are multiple interpretations, and people argue against their own beliefs for the fun of it - English and history for instance. In those classes Aaron falls silent, his papers are full of careful phrasings like,“The author argues,” and “Some hold the opinion that…” He never earns bad grades in these classes, but he never earns good grades either, trapped by his own literal honesty, he remains average.

School is one thing, but at home Aaron can’t hide. At home everyone knows if Aaron says a thing he believes it to be true.

Sally is kind. She never pushes him to answer anything, never presses when he falls quiet. She phrases her questions carefully, “Will you tell me,” and, more vaguely still, “It would be nice if I knew...” But, when Aaron is sixteen, she goes off to college. They talk occasionally on the phone, email, but she never comes home for breaks, and he misses her.

Where Sally is kind, Aaron’s aunt and uncle are not. They may argue the curse is a punishment, but they treat it as a tool. If Aaron falls silent they pursue, sensing a weakness. An outright refusal to answer is considered admission of some larger sin and leads to punishment, to his uncle’s belt, or meals withheld. Aaron finds it best to have nothing to hide, to follow the narrow path of behavior that they consider godly, and to _always_ answer their questions.

To make sure he has nothing to hide, Aaron has to take care not to even have certain thoughts, keeping his own mind clear of anything he would need to deny. For instance, in another universe, another place, Aaron might have tried to pursue the lingering glances that the preacher’s son, Jonathan Bellamy, gives him, but not here where such a thing could be compelled from him, could ruin the both of them. Instead, Aaron tries not to see or understand those glances, and doesn’t let his own eyes linger on Jon’s sweet, shy smile.

#

After Sally goes away to college, off to the west coast and to Berkeley, she tells him in a hushed voice over the phone that she’s met people there that do real magic. That her stories weren’t just fairytales, and that maybe there’s someone out there that can help Aaron.

With her assistance, Aaron makes a plan and two weeks later he’s run away. Away from the small town where Timothy and Rhoda live, away to the nearest city. It’s not that big in the grand scheme of things, but to Aaron, who has lived, for as far back as he can remember, in a town with no buildings over three stories, it seems huge, bustling with life and all types of people. Most importantly, there’s a woman who advertises magical abilities that she will share for a fee.

Aaron finds her with some effort, a shabby sign in front of a small house. Her living room has been turned into a magical office of sorts, veils draped over the lights, a round table with a deck of tarot cards, and rows of vials lining the walls. Everything is heavy velvets, busy paisleys, and stale cigarettes layered with incense.

The woman herself speaks in an airy, floating voice at first, all her sentences ending in mystic uncertainty, “Welcome to Madame Bettina’s… It is my pleasure to help you with whatever mystical assistance you need…”

But when she takes a good look at Aaron the ellipses end abruptly, and a bit of Long Island creeps into her words, “Oh sweetie, look at you. What a number.”

She takes his face in her hands, and peers at him, before tsking sadly, “That is quite a binding.”

Aaron, relieved at not having to explain, asks, “Can you fix it?”

She drops her hands, looking shocked, “Fix it? No, I’m afraid not. Is that why you’re here?”

Aaron opens his mouth to answer, but she winces, still watching him closely, seeing something that Aaron can’t perceive, “I’m sorry, don’t answer that.”

She settles into the chair by the tarot cards, “Listen honey, maybe if you had gotten it looked at before it set, but you’re an adult now, it’s impossible to remove something that’s seen you through that sort of transition.”

Aaron scoffs, “Adult? I can’t even drive yet.”

She pulls out a pack of cigarettes, and, as if he hadn’t just confessed to being wildly underage, offers him one. He waves it away, and she lights her own, before saying, “Magic doesn’t pay attention to the law, sweetie. If you can make a baby, you’re an adult.”

Aaron wrinkles his nose at that thought, but pursues the important point, “So that’s it?”

She stares at him through a haze of contemplative smoke, “That’s it. But- I’m sorry, are you the Edwards kid?”

He shrugs, to him Edwards is his uncle’s name.

“It’s just- I can tell you have a lot of potential. It seems unbelievable that one of the Edwards clan is so untrained that they’re coming to little old me, asking basic questions.”

He doesn’t say anything, and her gaze softens, “Just think about getting trained, I’m sure there’s someone in your family who would help you. Power shouldn’t go to waste.”

He thanks her politely, but leaves with no intention of following that up. As far as he’s concerned magic has only brought him grief, and this encounter hasn’t changed that. He takes a bus back to his aunt and uncle, and takes the punishment that results.

After that, he stops listening when Sally talks about magic, tuning her out in the same way he tunes out his Uncle’s religious talk, obviously magic can’t do any more for him than his uncle’s God has done.

#

Instead, Aaron spends the next two years quietly biding his time. He keeps his head down, does his chores, stays quiet, and earns the best grades he can. It pays off when he gets into Princeton with a decent scholarship, and he leaves with the deep hope that he never has to come back. His aunt and uncle don’t seem that sad to see him go, although they say they’ll be praying for him.

College is exciting, almost dizzyingly unstructured, no daily prayers, no one who knows his weakness, no punishment for not attending church, or for letting his eyes linger on a sweet smile. On his first Sunday on campus he hides in his bed rather than attend the church service he couldn’t quite help but look up. As the hour of the service comes and goes he feels dread, a childish fear of some divine retribution, and then a giddy relief when nothing happens. His roommate, still hungover, sleeps though all of it.

So college offers new freedoms, but it also presents its own challenges. The hustle and bustle of students is overwhelming compared to the small town where Aaron knew everyone and everyone knew Aaron. Those people expected Aaron to be quiet, they didn’t want much from him, but here people always seem to want Aaron to say something. His dorm mates introduce themselves with bold declarative statements (“Hi I’m Enid, I’m going to major in English, and I hate yogurt”), but Aaron can never quite make himself match, reluctant to give anything away unnecessarily.

Their RA has them do an icebreaker, and Aaron finds himself reluctantly confessing his favorite pet (cat), his favorite food (chocolate), and his hoped for major (engineering). None of it is important, but Aaron has learned to keep _everything_ close, never knowing what could be used against him later, and even these inconsequential confessions leave him tired, too quiet as they mingle afterwards.

It’s difficult to make friends when you can’t or won’t reciprocate what others consider small talk. One question that seems to come up over and over again is “What do your parents do?” Aaron can’t help but imagine the result if he actually answered, ‘Oh, what do my parents do? Moulder presumably, but before that they did something with magic, I’m not really sure because I can’t remember them.’ It’s all a little heavy, so Aaron just sticks to smiles and remains quiet more often than not.

His roommate, Samuel, doesn’t seem to mind. Aaron couldn’t say they really like each other, but neither do they _dislike_ each other. Actually, Samuel seems to feel a bit sorry for Aaron, and when Samuel gets pulled into some fraternity on campus he starts inviting Aaron along to the parties. These invitations are clearly motivated by pity, Aaron and Samuel barely talk to each other, and at these parties Samuel inevitably disappears within five minutes of arrival, lost among his frat bros, but pity invite or not, it gets Aaron in the door.

At these parties, Aaron doesn’t exactly make friends, but, after some trial and error, he does find a world where talking is overrated. He learns quickly that you don’t need a lot of words to find someone willing to get to know each other in a different way entirely.

At first, Aaron thinks he needs to flirt, to be smooth, but it turns out to be difficult with honesty pushing “I couldn’t help but notice you,” aside for, “I couldn’t help but notice your breasts,” the latter of which works on a very limited population of people. Alcohol, he discovers, only makes things worse, loosening his too honest tongue, making him confess thoughts that he’d rather keep to himself.

But then he learns the power of the dance floor. Here, there is no need for words, only for hips, hands, and rhythm. Any question he needs to ask or answer can be done with his body, and here he finds people willing to teach him everything he’s been missing in his small town, trapped in his family’s religion, and his own curse.

And once he gets his new acquaintances in the bedroom, unvarnished honesty is finally what is most needed. There’s no use in hedging with the questions and requests of the bedroom, a flat “Yes,” or, “No,” saying more than any delicate flattery.

Of course, these nearly silent connections tend to be fleeting, but, as far as Aaron is concerned, they’re enough for now.

His engineering classes offer another place where Aaron can feel settled most of the time, can feel safe in honesty. In these classes, things are or are not, with no real need for any personal opinions from Aaron, no truths revealed, no unwanted sharing, just numbers.

Unfortunately, in his first semester, only two of his classes are major classes, the other three are general education. Literature, history, and sociology. Here, the professors and the teaching assistants are always trying to get the class to debate, to share their thoughts, their personal experiences. Aaron remains stubbornly silent, even when the literature TA takes him aside to let him know that if he’s anxious speaking in public, she’s happy to let him come to office hours, or do response papers instead. His participation scores suffer, but he writes competent papers and aces the tests, so he makes it through with okay grades, looking forward to getting the gen ed classes out of the way.

#

Aaron refuses to even consider going back to his aunt and uncle’s for winter break, the longer he’s away, they less he can ever imagine returning. He had thought that he might visit Sally, but she’s off to the mountains for the break, skiing apparently. He could go...anywhere he supposes, but it doesn’t seem worth the effort, intimidating not even six months after leaving his hometown for the second time ever, and so he stays on campus.

Campus during the break is strange, all the normal hum missing. When he’d moved in a few months ago it had seemed overwhelming, but now the absence of the bustle seems odd. There’s no one else staying on his wing of the seventh floor, leaving it almost echoing in its hollowness. The school buildings are down to only the most determined graduate students, and patient staff, all of whom seem confused to see an undergraduate when he idly walks through the engineering building.

Food is another issue, only a few places are open, and for tightly limited hours. It’s in the one cafeteria by the dorms that Aaron has the chance to see which of his fellow students have also stayed over the break - mostly students from overseas who couldn’t pay for the flight.

These students clump together by country of origin, speaking in any number of languages aside from English. There are few other people by themselves, but they seem to form groups quickly, and, as always, Aaron just doesn’t have the words to do that. Instead he brings a book with him, and determinedly reads during meals.

It’s three days into the break when this semi-comfortable routine is broken by someone sitting across from Aaron. Aaron’s wedged himself in one of the corner tables, tucked away from the larger, louder crowds, and the room is filled with empty tables so it can’t be an accident. He looks up from his book reluctantly.

It’s Alexander Hamilton. Alexander Hamilton had somehow been in all three of Aaron’s gen ed classes. Alexander Hamilton, who, for the first two weeks of class, introduced himself just like that every time he spoke, full name, as if they might mistake him for someone else. In class, he was as talkative as Aaron was silent, an opinion on absolutely every topic they discussed.

The professors, the TAs, and some of the other students had seemed annoyed eventually, eye rolling from students when Alexander spoke yet again, and professors finally saying, “Thank you, Alexander. Now let’s hear from someone who hasn’t gotten a chance yet.” Aaron couldn’t say he was annoyed, the more Alexander spoke, the less chance that Aaron would be called on to do so. And there was something fascinating about the easy way words poured from him, the way he shared his opinion without hesitation, and had no problem arguing two or more sides of a point until he settled on the one that suited him.

And, well... he was a handsome guy, all messy hair and passion, and there was no one here at college to force that truth from Aaron, so maybe he let his gaze linger occasionally. Sometimes Aaron lost track of Alexander’s argument, caught instead in the way his shirt pulled over his shoulders as he gestured expansively, or the flush on his cheekbones when he got passionate about a topic.

But while Aaron knew exactly who Alexander was, had no choice really, he is surprised when he looks up and Alexander says, “Aaron Burr,” full name, like Alexander has been paying attention, has some reason to know quiet Aaron who never speaks unless required.   

Aaron freezes for a moment, not sure why Alexander is on campus, not sure what he wants from Aaron, but then cautiously says, “Yes?”

Alexander reaches over the top of their cafeteria trays for a handshake, “I’m Alex-”

“Alexander Hamilton, yes I know,” Aaron can’t help himself from interrupting, but he shakes the proffered hand.

Alexander smiles, a bit sheepishly, “I see I’ve left an impression.”

Aaron doesn’t respond to that, a series of incriminating thoughts pressing up against the back of his teeth. He doesn’t let his gaze linger on the sheepish smile either, just as beautiful as the bright grin Alexander had flashed in class whenever someone had conceded his point.

It was one thing to admire Alexander from afar when Aaron had thought Alexander didn’t even know Aaron existed. But in their history class Alexander had sat with his girlfriend. Her name was Eliza, and she was just as beautiful as Alexander, although, like most of the population, somewhat more restrained in her enthusiasm for arguing about history. They seemed happy together, Eliza perfectly willing to cut Alexander’s wilder arguments off at the knees, and Alexander perfectly willing to be defeated by her straightforward logic. So Aaron, doesn’t do any of the subtle things he might have done if he’d met Alexander at a party, if he’d seen that smile in another context.

After a pause, Alexander goes on, seemingly willing to fill in Aaron’s silence, “So I figure, we don’t know each other exactly, but we’ve had like three classes together, right?”

He goes on without waiting for a response, “That’s about as close to a friend that I think either of us has here now, and I really liked your final presentation in sociology, so why not hang out?”

Aaron absorbs that for a minute, “Thank you,” he finally says, “I liked yours too.”

That was true (of course), although Aaron had mostly been amused at the sad expression on the TA’s face when Alexander’s presentation, quite deliberately Aaron was sure, had lead to a twenty minute class argument that left no time for questions on the presentation that followed, much to the evident relief of the shy student scheduled after Alexander.

Alexander’s face brightens, “Awesome.”

Seemingly secure in his welcome now, Alexander turns to his lunch, “So, why are you here with the exiles?” Again doesn’t give Aaron a chance to respond, scanning him quickly as if he can answer the question himself with just a look, “Army brat and your parents are overseas?”

Aaron shakes his head, and Alexander chews a bit of cassarole thoughtfully, “Poor?”

Aaron shakes his head again, his parents had left him money that his aunt and uncle hadn’t been able to touch, he was far from poor and if he wanted to go somewhere he could.

Alexander frowns, “You hate your parents?”

Aaron has mixed feelings about the people who cursed him and left Sally and him behind, but hate...no, he manages to shake his head again.

Alexander shrugs, “Well I’m here because I’m an orphan.” He wrinkles his nose as if annoyed by the confession, or maybe by the likely response.

Without thinking, Aaron, reciprocates, “Same.”

Alexander freezes, and then a smile breaks out over his face, “Oh wow, that’s awesome, or I mean...you know, _not_ , but you know what I mean.”

Aaron can’t say he exactly does, so he just shrugs.

Unperturbed, Alexander continues, “So like...were you in the system, or did someone take you in?”

Aaron grudgingly says, “My uncle took me.”

Alexander raises an eyebrow, “But not a fan of his.” It’s not really a question, so Aaron doesn’t answer it, and Alexander is going on anyway, “I’m a proud product of the New York foster care system, I could go back for the holidays, but why, you know? And my girlfriend invited me to visit her family with her, but I don’t know, I felt like maybe more than two months of dating before doing family Christmas, right?”

Aaron doesn’t answer, because what does he know about being a foster kid, or having a girlfriend, but Alexander barely seems to notice, “So here we are. Do you have any cool plans?”

“No,” Aaron decidedly does _not_ have cool plans. Mostly he planned to read a lot.

“Yeah, me either. But I bet two smart guys like us could come up with something. Movie marathon at the very least.”

And that’s how Aaron finds himself spending just about every waking moment of the next three weeks with Alexander.

#

When they finish lunch, before Aaron knows quite what is happening, Alexander follows Aaron back to his dorm room and after some debate (mostly between Alexander and Alexander) they settle down to watch a _Brooklyn 99_ marathon. Aaron’s never seen it, and Alexander seems sure that he’ll like it, despite knowing almost nothing about Aaron.

After a few episodes Aaron has to agree that it’s good. They break for dinner, buying the most portable foods, and bringing them back to Aaron’s room for a dinner of cold pop-tarts, chips, and turkey jerky. Over this feast they watch a few more episodes, until Aaron starts to feel blurry with it and calls a halt.

Once the last episode wraps, Alexander doesn’t leave right away, spinning around in Samuel’s desk chair as if it’s his own, “So who’s your favorite character?”

Aaron is slow to speak, hoping that Alexander will take over as usual, but Alexander is patient for once, and finally Aaron says, “Holt.”

Alexander stops his slow spinning, “Right? He’s hilarious.”

Aaron, on his bed, leaning against the wall, nods.

Alexander spins half a spin, and then back again, “Okay, but who’s the hottest?”

Aaron, feels already committed to this conversation, so he answers, “Rosa.”

Alexander tilts his head, seeming somehow surprised by that answer, “Rosa, huh?” He considers, “I’d go with Amy for sure, but you know who is weirdly hot?”

Aaron doesn’t need to say ‘who,’ before Alexander is already providing the answer, “Jake, right?”

Aaron doesn’t respond directly, instead he says, “Why is that weird?”

If this is some subtle attempt at coming out it’s a little belated given the sheer number of times Alexander had said some variation of ‘As a bisexual man…’ in their sociology class. Alexander waves a hand, “He was just so...gangly on SNL.”

Aaron shrugs, “I didn’t watch.”

“Oh.”

Alexander’s expression is somehow dissatisfied, and Aaron realizes suddenly it wasn’t so much a coming out, as a fact finding mission about Aaron’s own preferences. He could dodge, but why not offer this at least, “I mean, he’s pretty hot now, so he couldn’t have been that bad before, could he?”

“Right,” Alexander says, looking satisfied with his own cunning, “I suppose not.”

He leaves soon after, but not until he’s insisted they exchange phone numbers and made plans to visit a new bookstore the next day.

After Alexander is gone, Aaron stares at the entry in his phone, full name again, not quite sure how he arrived here. Even as he’s staring, a text comes in from Alexander, _get ready for some serious book shopping!!_

Aaron isn’t sure what to say back, and finally settles on a smiling emoji, sorting through them carefully, not sure what the different implications of eyes open or shut, teeth showing or not, are.

It must be okay, because Alexander sends him back the same one, with the message, _see you tomorrow!_

#

After lunch the next day, they set off. Alexander is apparently on a mission to visit every bookstore in the area, and he’s already been to all the easily accessible ones in the city, meaning that this trip requires a bus ride that takes well over an hour. But as Alexander says, what else do they have to do?

The crowd on the bus waxes and wanes as they travel, and Aaron is glad that Alexander let him have the window when the aisle fills with people jostling into one another. When they finally arrive, the bookstore is small, but filled with good books, and they lose themselves there for a solid couple of hours, each gathering a stack of books, and then reluctantly weeding it down to a manageable number to carry on the bus.

Aaron’s favorite stories, fiction or nonfiction, are about liars, about people who stretch the truth, who aren’t bound by strict morality. Criminals, conmen, politicians, propagandists, he finds them all fascinating and his book selections reflect it. Alexander seems to like books on anything non-fiction, ending up with a mix of history books, political screeds, a science book, and one thick economic text.

After, they find a cheap restaurant nearby and have a lingering early dinner, enjoying the non-cafeteria food, surrounded by empty tables and the occasional senior citizen, until the bus is supposed to arrive.

Unfortunately, when they leave the restaurant, it’s started to rain. It’s a cold day, but not quite cold enough to turn to the rain into snow, and they’re soaked and freezing within no time. The bus stop doesn’t have a shelter, so they huddle together waiting until the it finally shows up, fifteen minutes late.

The ride home is a little miserable, wet and cold, and in a bus filled with other wet, cold people, all the odors of that many people in a tight space enhanced by the damp. Aaron and Alexander talk softly about their planned majors for a while - Alexander politics, and Aaron, chemical engineering - but then even Alexander falls quiet, watching the rain continue to pour outside the bus windows. When they get back into town, they still have to make it another half mile through the cold drizzle back to the dorm. It’s dark, and Aaron’s had more pleasant walks, almost starting to wish he’d stayed home in his dorm, even it was by himself once again.

Once inside Aaron’s regret vanishes, melted away by Alexander’s grin, his smile undiminished by the cold, or the way tendrils of his hair are clinging damply to his face, “Well that was an adventure!”

Aaron just laughs, but he agrees to meet Alexander the next day for lunch.

Back in his room, Aaron unpacks the books. Only one, a giant biography of Nixon, got wet. He carefully arranges it by the heater to dry, and then goes to take a long hot shower before bed, ignoring the way the echoing emptiness of the halls make every trip to the shared bathroom feel like a chance for a horror movie to start.

The shower feels unbelievably good, thawing him out, and, after, he falls asleep in the middle of trying to read one of his new books, waking up briefly in the night when he rolls over on top of it.

#

Aaron wakes up later than he normally would, already on the edge of being late for lunch with Alexander. It’s not until he’s already out the door, on his way to the cafeteria that he realizes the reason he can’t clear the sleep from his throat is that he has the beginnings of a sore throat. The realization of it seems to make it immediately worse, and by the time he and Alexander have their trays of food in front of them, Alexander talking a mile a minute about one of his new books, it’s bloomed into a burning pain that makes Aaron’s first bite of food more trouble than it’s worth.

Aaron gives up on the sandwich and focuses on chewing his fries carefully, washing small bites down with sips of cold water.

Eventually Alexander’s monologue slows, and he says, “Are you okay?”

Aaron longs to be the kind of person who could just brush that off with an, “Of course,” or even to be able to minimize it, “Just a little sore throat.” But every bite of food is making it worse, so he just gruffly says, “Sore throat.”

Alexander looks guilty, “Oh man, this is what happens when you let me drag you all over in the rain.”

Aaron shrugs that aside. He made his choice.

Alexander studies Aaron, who continues to sip slowly at his water, giving up on the food altogether. After a moment, Alexander stands up, “Be right back.”

When he returns he’s carefully mixing something together in one of the paper soda cups with a plastic spoon, “Okay, it’s not perfect, but in my opinion for a sore throat there’s nothing better than a milkshake.”

He hands the cup to Aaron, who sees that it’s chocolate ice cream from the soft serve machine, mixed with just enough milk to make it thin enough for the straw. Aaron laughs, a little painful, but says, “Thanks.”

Actually, it’s a pretty good solution, calories in a cool and soothing form. It doesn’t hurt that Aaron loves chocolate in all its varieties.

Alexander seems pleased, and Aaron feels a bit better after finishing the shake.

After, Alexander doesn’t seem sure if Aaron will still want to hang out, if his apologies are any indication, apparently seriously concerned that Aaron will blame him for a cold. As if Aaron would push away the first person who has wanted to spend time with him outside of bed in literally years over something he didn’t even do. Aaron waves aside the apologies and leads Alexander back to his room, where they watch more _Brooklyn 99_.

It’s still funny, but by the time dinner rolls around, Aaron’s throat is burning, and he’s worked his way through half a box of tissues. He’s surprised Alexander didn’t leave when the nose blowing started, it’s generally not a particularly pleasant thing to be around, but Alexander hadn’t seemed bothered, just guilty.

Aaron, feeling chilled, layers on another shirt and they go to dinner. Aaron sticks to liquids, soup and another shake. After, he feels sloshy, and a little queasy. He’s also tired even though he’s done nothing of note all day and slept in that morning, but even so, he can’t seem to focus on Alexander’s stories.

Alexander eventually notices, and tells Aaron to go to sleep, says they’ll see how Aaron’s feeling tomorrow before making any plans. Aaron gratefully heads to bed, but when he gets there he can hardly sleep, too cold and too congested to rest, finally drifting into a fitful sleep around four.

He wakes up gradually to the realization that there’s a pounding on his door. It’s hard to focus, it feels like everything is just a little more distant than it should be, a piece of glass between him and the world, but he manages to find his phone which tells him it’s almost three.

There are a ton of missed texts and calls. It takes Aaron a moment to process, because, unlike Alexander who seems to be constantly receiving texts, no one texts Aaron. Aaron can’t think about it, because there’s still someone at the door. He gets up, but just as he stumbles to the door, the knocking stops. Aaron opens the door anyway, whoever it was can’t have gotten far. Alexander trips into the room as if he was leaning on the door, “Aaron!”

Aaron doesn’t have the energy to ask why Alexander looks so relieved, color flooding back into a face that seemed too pale, and Alexander is already talking anyway, “Okay, you’re okay, and...I probably shouldn’t be here right? Were you ignoring me? I’m sorry, I-”

Aaron wraps his arms around himself, it seems absurdly cold in the room now that he’s out of the blankets, and shakes his head, cutting Alexander off, “I just woke up.”

It comes out as a croak, and Alexander stops apologizing to look at him, “I woke you up.”

Aaron doesn’t have the energy to do anything other than just nod, although that’s a mistake because it makes him realize how dizzy he is, the room starting to slide slightly off axis. He turns back to his bed, and sits on the edge, wanting nothing more than to crawl back under the covers, but vaguely aware that would be rude. He reaches for another tissue, only to realize that sometime in the night he used the last one.

He’s staring at the empty box in consternation when another box creeps into his vision. He startles slightly, somehow having already forgotten that Alexander is there, but he is, and he’s handing Aaron a box of tissues that must be Samuel’s. Aaron takes them, unable to worry about the niceties of stealing his roommate’s tissues, and blows his nose for what feels like the thousandth time.  

When he’s done, Alexander is still hovering there, “Do you have a thermometer?”

Aaron shakes his head.

Alexander looks conflicted for a minute, then says, “Just- Excuse me for this,” and reaches out to lay a hand on Aaron’s forehead. It feels cool against Aaron’s skin, and Aaron wants to flinch away, but Alexander looks so apologetic and concerned that Aaron forces himself to stay still until the cold hand is removed.

“Okay, not that bad,” Alexander says. “Have you had anything to eat or drink since I saw you last?”

Aaron shakes his head again, a little nauseated at the very thought of food. He’s still dizzy, and he feels achy as if he’d been working out instead of sleeping.

He realizes he’s lost track of things again, when Alexander’s hand comes back to rest on his shoulder, grabbing his attention, “Hey, just get back in bed. I’m going to go get you some food.”

Aaron doesn’t even bother to agree or disagree, already pulling himself back into the warm nest of blankets.

He does manage to croak a yes, when Alexander asks if he can borrow Aaron’s keys, but he’s really already half asleep again, not quite sure why Alexander needs them.

Alexander wakes Aaron up, when he returns. “Sleep is important,” he says apologetically, “but you needs to hydrate at least.”

Aaron knows it’s true, so he makes himself drink some of the mug of soup that Alexander offers him, and then some water. He also takes the Tylenol that Alexander finds in Aaron’s things. Thus fortified Aaron manages to make it to the bathroom, where he washes his face and feels slightly more human.

He tries to convince Alexander to leave when he gets back, not sure why anyone would hang around someone as out of it and un-entertaining as Aaron is right now, but Alexander gets stubborn and Aaron doesn’t have the energy to fight. Alexander stays, putting on some animated film, and Aaron falls asleep to the sound of animated animals solving crime.

Aaron wakes up in the middle of the night, abruptly alert. The TV is still playing, a different animated film, and, to Aaron’s surprise, Alexander is still there, asleep on top of Samuel’s bed.

Instead of trying to figure out how he feels about that, Aaron takes another dose of Tylenol, goes to the bathroom, and then drinks the bottle of gatorade that Alexander has pointedly left on the corner of the desk by Aaron’s bed.

Although still a bit achy and cold, Aaron feels pretty clear compared to earlier, and completely unable to sleep after nearly twenty four hours of hibernation. Instead, he wraps himself back in the covers and lays on his side, studying Alexander’s sleeping form.

Aaron can barely make him out, lit only by the soft light of cartoon adventures. Aaron can’t quite figure out why a guy who has known Aaron for barely three days would care if Aaron has a cold, much less go out of his way to take care of Aaron in a way that his own aunt and uncle barely bothered with once Sally was old enough to heat soup.

Aaron doesn’t come to any conclusions, and finally falls asleep watching the gentle rise and fall of Alexander’s chest in the flickering light.

When Aaron wakes again in the morning, Alexander is still there, although he’s clearly been and returned, his hair still wet from a shower, and wearing a pair of glasses that Aaron didn’t even know he needed. He’s reading a book, the thick economics text, and seems completely absorbed, but he quickly drops it when Aaron sits up, “Hey, how are you doing?”

Aaron considers, his throat no longer feels on fire, and for a change he isn’t overwhelmed with the need to blow his nose. He takes a deep breath, which turns out to be a mistake because it leads to a small fit of coughing, but, even so, he notes the lack of dizziness, “Better.”

Alexander smiles and Aaron almost wants to look away from its brightness, “Awesome!”

Instead, Aaron smiles back carefully, and then gathers his things for a shower.

When Aaron returns, triumphantly clad in actual non-pajama clothes, feeling even better after some time under the hot water, Alexander seems nervous, “So, I’m sorry if like- I know we don’t know each other that well, and I’ve been told I can be kind of...intense.”

Aaron doesn’t say anything, just tying his shoes and waiting for the flow of words to end, “I uh- I don’t know, when I meet someone who seems cool, I just kind of like...jump straight to being friends. In the system you kind of never knew how long you would know someone, so why not?”

Aaron looks up startled, ‘seems cool?’ He’s pretty sure no one else has ever drawn that conclusion about him before.

Alexander isn’t looking at Aaron, instead carefully straightening the jacket cover on his book, “And uh, I get a little...panicky, I guess, when my friends are sick. When I was twelve my mom… Well, you already know I’m an orphan, so fill in the blanks I guess.”

Alexander looks up then, chin set stubbornly as if he expects Aaron to judge him, but Aaron couldn’t do that, not when his chest is aching, not with the lingering cough, but an unexpected empathy. He gathers his words the best he can, “It was kind of nice. I’m not used to having people, um, worry.”

Alexander’s stubborn look fades into something soft, and Aaron turns back to tying his shoes, unwilling to look at it for too long. When he’s done, he says, “Come on, I want food you have to chew.”

Alexander laughs, and that’s it. They spend the rest of the day finishing up _Brooklyn 99_ while Aaron muffles the occasional cough in his sleeve, and takes breaks to wash his bedding, sure his sheets are just one big germ at this point.

The next day they’re both fed up with the indoors, and, even though it’s very cold, they go for a long walk, winding through the empty campus, testing which buildings are locked. They run into the occasional cranky graduate student, but even staff are mostly cleared out the day before Christmas Eve.

Aaron has no love for the holiday. It had been a big deal for his aunt and uncle of course, but not in the cozy way portrayed in Christmas movies, instead for Aaron and Sally it had meant hours and hours of church and church potlucks, hours of prayer to a god Aaron doesn’t believe in. The idea of _not_ recognizing the holiday gives Aaron a certain satisfaction. Alexander seems more perplexed by Christmas than resentful, “I don’t really get it. My mom wasn’t a Christian, and the foster family I spent the most time with were Jewish, so it was never really a thing for me.”

Having settled that for them there will be no yule festivities, there’s some debate about what the appropriate counter programming is. They debate the issue through Christmas Eve itself, which they mostly spend going through Alexander’s roommate’s gaming collection. They discover that Aaron, who rarely had the chance to play video games growing up, is very bad at pretty much any game that involves shooting or fighting, but can just about manage Mario Kart. It’s somewhere around their third try to make it around Rainbow Road without Aaron spending most of the time being hauled up after plunging into the abyss, that they come to the brilliant solution of a _Lord of the Rings_ marathon.

“It seems festive,” Alexander says cheerfully, watching Aaron driving very slowly toward the finish line.

And so that’s what they end up doing, all eleven plus hours. Frankly, Aaron can’t remember a better Christmas.

#

The remaining two weeks pass with more movie marathons, some more adventures on the bus, fortunately none ending in rain, and one really solid snowfall that leads to an epic snowball fight with a handful of exchange students. On New Year’s Eve, Alexander produces a bottle of terrible rum from under his bed, and they get drunk watching a _Twilight Zone_ marathon, Alexander ducking out at midnight to call Eliza.

The last night before Alexander’s friends are supposed to come back, they go out to dinner, a local Indian restaurant, cheap, but gloriously not campus food. It’s a nice night, and Aaron can’t help but try to imprint it in his memory, Alexander’s laugh, his patience when Aaron has to pause before carefully answering a question, or the way Alexander doesn’t seem to mind doing most of the talking. They walk back to campus in the brisk cold, and Aaron allows himself one brief lingering look at Alexander, beautiful in the streetlights, cheeks flushed with cold. Just one, but it’s something worth remembering.

Aaron assumes that will be it, that once Alexander’s friends are back, Aaron will be someone Alexander says hello to on campus, but no more. These memories, and even a casual greeting on campus is still more than Aaron had before, so Aaron is content to just value these three weeks.

#

But that’s not what happens. The day everyone floods back into campus, Aaron spends in his room reading, listening to the hum of students slowly grow until it develops into a dull roar. There are classes the next day, but that hasn’t stopped some of them from partying, and as the day continues, loud voices and music start to fill the halls.

Aaron tries not to feel lonely, even when Samuel arrives and leaves again with no more than a hello, but it’s somehow more difficult after getting a taste of what having a friend is like. Aaron has a hard time focusing on his book, starting and restarting pages. Just when he’s thinking of giving up on reading, and going to scrounge up a late dinner, he gets a text from Alexander, inviting him to a gathering of his friends. Aaron stares at it for a minute, not sure if he should accept what must be a pity invitation. It somehow feels different than doing the same with Samuel. Aaron is still thinking about it, when another text comes in, _You have to come, everyone thinks I made you up._

It makes Aaron smile a little to think of Alexander talking about Aaron, about Aaron leaving even that much impression, and he finally texts back, _Okay._

Alexander responds with a flurry of happy emojis and a room number for some stranger's room. Having to go to the room of someone Aaron doesn’t even know makes him feel tense, and he tries not to regret agreeing, examining himself in the mirror critically. Sweatshirt and jeans, casual but not sloppy, good enough. He catches his own eyes in the mirror and he looks nervous. He takes another minute, smoothing out his expression into something bland and relaxed, only leaving when he’s satisfied that no one can see anything he doesn’t want them to.

The room is on Alexander’s floor, but at the other end of the building. When Aaron gets there, it’s loud already, but he’s made it this far, so he knocks. He doesn’t know the man who opens the door, all wide smile, and big hair, but the man says, “You must be Aaron,” and throws the door open, calling back into the room, “Pay up Hercules, Aaron exists!”

There’s a groan from inside the room, and a tall man holds a fortune cookie out to the guy from the door. Next to the tall man is another guy, someone that Aaron recognizes from sociology. He’d always sat next to Alexander in lecture, although he must have been in a different discussion section. He grabs the fortune cookie with a smirk, throwing it to door guy, and nods at Aaron.

And then there’s Alexander, leaping off one of the beds, where he had been sitting with Eliza. He strides over to Aaron, and throws an arm around his shoulders.

“Everyone,” he says, “This is Aaron. Aaron, this is Lafayette, Hercules, John, and Eliza” He points to the man with the hair, the tall man, the guy from sociology, and of course Eliza, in turn.

Aaron awkwardly waves at them.

Alexander continues, “John’s father is paying for dinner, so eat as much as you like,” and he points to a truly terrifying number of Chinese food containers.

John smiles, too sharp, “Got to make use of the credit card before I get disowned.” Aaron is a bit taken aback at that kind of personal information right off the bat, but he supposes everyone else in the room already knows, and perhaps it would be stranger not to bring it up.

Alexander is heading back to the bed and Eliza, but he stops to squeeze John’s shoulder in comforting way. John’s sharp smile softens to something genuine as he looks up at Alexander.

There’s something that seems a little too intimate in his expression, and Aaron looks away from that vulnerability, scanning the rest of the room. Eliza doesn’t seem bothered by the exchange, focused on her food. Hercules, seemingly resigned to his loss of a fortune cookie, perhaps comforted by the small pile of cookies still remaining in front of him, waves Aaron over.

Aaron picks a spot on the floor, careful to let Lafayette sit down first so he doesn’t take his place. Aaron sorts through the food, picks a container that no one else seems to want. Alexander has rejoined Eliza on the bed, the awkward moment passed, and Aaron thanks John for the food, receiving a shrug in return.

Lafayette says, through a mouthful of food, “So Aaron, who definitely exists, you put up with Alexander for the whole break?”

Alexander rolls his eyes at the question, watching them from where he’s sitting sideways on the bed. Eliza is sitting at the head of the bed, and has casually thrown her legs over Alexander’s. They look happy and right together.

Aaron carefully chews and swallows a bite of food, taking the time to formulate his answer, “Not the whole break. I didn’t run into him until the third day.”

Lafayette, nods sagely, “Oh well, that’s different then.”

Hercules, adds, “Three weeks, just barely tolerable. Three and a half? You would have murdered him.”

Alexander says, mock annoyed, “Whatever. I can’t believe I put up with any of you.”

They laugh at him, and Aaron smiles down at his food.

John says, “So Aaron, what’s your story?”

The worst kind of question, “Um,” Aaron says, buying himself time, “I’m from a small town in Connecticut. I’m majoring in chemical engineering.” Say something personal…. “I, uh, I like cats better than dogs?”

Everyone but John laughs. Aaron is starting to suspect that, for whatever reason, John doesn’t like Aaron, and he’s sure of it when John says, “But I mean, why were you here over break?”

Eliza makes a soft noise of protest, and Alexander says, “Come on, man.”

If that’s how John wants this to be, Aaron can meet him without effort. Making enemies is always easier than making friends, and it doesn’t seem like John has any interest in being friends. So Aaron just says, with all the brutality of a lifetime of forced honesty, “Why is your dad disowning you?”

Out of the corner of his eye Aaron can see the others watching the exchange, tense, but an expression of grudging respect flickers over John’s face, and he answers with apparent honesty, “I’m gay.”

Aaron nods, “I’m bisexual.” A statement largely unrelated to John’s question, but true, which is enough for the curse, and a reciprocal confession, which is the best peace offering Aaron knows how to give.

It seems to be enough because, John nods, the hostility receding for the moment at least.

Hercules breaks into the tension with an unrelated topic, and Aaron turns his attention to the food, quietly observing the group dynamics as the meal unfolds. Alexander always has something to say, but John is nearly as opinionated, although not quite as good at framing an argument. Eliza seems comfortable enough in the loud debates that unfurl, but overall is a bit quieter. Before the evening ends, she leaves to spend time with “the girls,” so presumably she has her own friend group. Lafayette and Hercules are both quick with a joke, constantly trying to one up each other.

It’s a loud combination, the four of them vying for time to show off their wit, whether through debate or humor, and Aaron can see how they’d wonder at his ability to put up with Alexander for that long. It would be a challenge for these people, all wanting to shine and elbowing each other for space to do so. Aaron has no such desires, and therefore doesn’t say much during the evening.

Finally, John says, “Are you always this quiet?”

‘Quiet’ is a word that has been applied to Aaron many times over the course of his life, and he hates it a little bit more each time. He knows he’s quiet, but it doesn’t feel that way, always fighting with the words that want to escape, with the noise inside. There’s no way he plans on conveying any of that though, so instead Aaron shrugs.

Alexander had settled in between them after Eliza left, and now he reaches out to shove John lightly, “Don’t be such a dick, not everyone has to be as loud as us.”

Later, when Alexander, Aaron and Lafayette leave, (apparently that was John and Hercules’s room), Alexander says, “I’m sorry about John. He takes a little while to warm up to new people.”

Lafayette looks like he wants to add something but he doesn’t, and Aaron just nods.

#

Aaron didn’t think it went all that well, but Alexander apparently disagrees because he keeps inviting Aaron to hang out, and Aaron, unused to the idea of someone wanting him around, can’t help but agree to almost every invitation.

He finds all of them a little fascinating, all so loud and opinionated, not caring who hears. None of them seem to understand Aaron’s silence, Alexander maybe least of all, but for whatever reason - orphan bond, _Lord of the Rings_ Christmas, or shared love of old books - Alexander seems unbothered. Hercules and Lafayette are both fairly genial, getting along with seemingly everyone, even Aaron. John doesn’t warm up to Aaron, but it becomes evident that he’s not the easiest person to get along with anyway, a weird tension between him and Alexander occasionally, and sometimes even with Eliza.

That’s almost unbelievable, because Eliza seems to be just about the nicest person Aaron’s ever met. When she hangs out with the group she’s usually with Alexander, but sometimes, when Alexander gets lost in an extended argument, she and Aaron will peel off for a quieter, less confrontational conversation. She’s beautiful, brilliant, and kind, and Aaron is a little surprised that she puts up with Alexander.

It turns out that Alexander during break and Alexander during the school year are not quite the same person. The carefree, well rested guy of winter break, quickly gives way to a sleep deprived, argumentative individual. Aaron suspects part of the reason he hadn’t seen Alexander until the third day of break is that Alexander was catching up on sleep for those days. Alexander throws all of himself into his schoolwork, into his papers, into his readings, and into every class discussion, often wanting to later re-litigate discussions that none of his friends were even there for, fighting with people not even present.

“School is my way out,” he confides to Aaron, one night when they’re the last two still at the library, Aaron working his way through the problem set required for his freshman engineering class (a weed-out course if there ever was one), and Alexander determined to produce the best research paper his psychology professor has ever seen.

Aaron considers him, the dark circles under his eyes, and his hair mussed from hiding in the hood of his sweatshirt earlier. He’s a mess, but Aaron somehow still feels completely confident in him, in his abilities to reach his goals, “You’ll do it. You’ll make it.”

It’s the kind of thing that Aaron can say because it’s impossible to know the truth value of the future. He usually avoids such statements, they feel odd leaving his mouth, uncertain and insubstantial like the shapes caused by sun filtered through the leaves of a summer tree, heat and light, but no weight. On this night though he can almost feel the words pressing on his lips as they leave, solid with his faith in Alexander.

Maybe Alexander feels it too, because he sits a little straighter in his chair, and his brow clears a bit, “Thank you. That means a lot.”

They leave after only another half hour, Alexander already looking half asleep and Aaron filled with the hope that tonight Alexander will actually rest.

No matter what, Alexander will insist the next day that he got plenty of sleep. Because that’s the other thing that Aaron has learned about Alexander. Outside of the relaxed bubble of break, he lies easily and often.

Of course most people do. Little things, exaggerations, soft face savers, that’s why Aaron has always found it so difficult to move through the world. But Aaron, so locked away from lies, finds them fascinating, and they’re doubly fascinating in Alexander who seems to care so little about what people think of him, and yet still lies.

The first lie Aaron sees him tell is a nothing. He and Aaron are having lunch, discussing their next bookstore trip, when Eliza comes up behind Aaron with her own tray, “Eliza,” Alexander says, “We were just talking about you, come join us.”

It’s a pointless lie, and Aaron pokes at the why of it well into his next class, distracted from math that he already knows anyway, by trying to figure out what was gained by such a lie, why even bother?

Aaron has long been good at spotting lies, whether because they’re forbidden to him, or because he’s drawn to their very foreignness, and he finds Alexander’s particularly easy to identify, so different from his usual brashness. Mostly Alexander lies to avoid concern, to move through life without spending time on things he deems irrelevant, so, “Did you eat?” “Yes.” “Did you sleep?” “Yes.” “Are you okay?” “Yes.”

It worries Aaron a little that no one else seems to notice that these are lies, but mostly he wants to get closer. Lies have always drawn him in, and they are even more alluring tripping out of Alexander’s beautiful lips. Aaron imagines that lies have a taste. Bitter like coffee without cream, or maybe sweet and thick, like nice chocolates, or perhaps they have the copper taste of blood.

No more than once a week, often on the nights when Alexander and Eliza have ‘date night’ and Samuel is off at whatever fraternity events keep him constantly away, Aaron allows himself to fantasize about Alexander, about his lies. Aaron imagines touching the lies, pressing his mouth to Alexander’s when he’s telling them, swiping his tongue in Alexander’s mouth in search of whatever flavor the lie has. Having Alexander whisper them in his ears, the vibrations tickling there. Putting his fingers in Alexander’s mouth, making him tell the lie around them, letting Aaron feel the shape of it, the motion of Alexander’s tongue against his hand, leaving Aaron’s fingers wet with it.

These fantasies make Aaron come with a force that leaves him panting into his pillow, but he knows they’re strange, and he knows Alexander is lucky to have Eliza, so he keeps this desire carefully tucked away, quarantined from the rest of his life.

Instead, Aaron goes to parties, seeking the fleeting companionship of people who are happy to spend time in his bed, and uninterested in conversation. By now, Aaron has formed enough casual relationships with people, fellow lovers of dancing and strings-free sex, that he’s no longer reliant on Samuel and his frat bros for party invites. Any given weekend, Aaron knows at least one party where, if he so desires, he can find someone to spend a little time with.

Perhaps it’s inevitable that eventually he’d run into Alexander and his friends at one of these parties, but Aaron hadn’t really thought they ran in those circles, mostly seeming to prefer gatherings where conversation is the name of the game.

On the night it finally happens, Alexander had invited Aaron out with the group, but Aaron had thought it would be another night arguing about anything and everything, just with beer making everyone even louder. He’d done a few of these nights. Lafayette seemed to know a weird number of grad students who didn’t seem to mind undergrads crashing if they chipped into the beer fund. It had been fine, but tonight Aaron felt restless and hungry, not interested in conversation. So he had turned down the invitation and found his way to another party, invited by a woman he’s hooked up with a few times.

There was a loud crowd at the house, some playing beer pong in the backyard, slipping in the springtime mud, and some playing flip cup on the driveway. But Aaron didn’t care about that, because the whole first floor of the house had been cleared of furniture, and a haphazard lighting and sound system had transformed it into a dance floor. Aaron had a single beer, and then lost himself in the dancing.

He’s danced with his host, with a pretty girl who liked dancing, but clearly had no real interest in Aaron, and with one blushing guy, who isn’t quite bold enough to stick around for more than one dance before retreating off to the side of the dance floor with his friends. Aaron’s dancing by himself, scanning the crowd, when a guy he’s never met slips out of the mass of people, and joins him. The guy is handsome, dimples and smooth, dark skin, and Aaron is only too happy to match his rhythm.

They’ve been dancing for almost three songs, and all of Aaron’s silent questions are meeting a receptive audience. Aaron is leaning back into the guy’s broad chest, when he hears someone calling his name. He’s lost in the way the guy’s mouth is just barely brushing his neck, so it takes a couple of repetitions before it sinks in, and he opens his eyes to the unwelcome sight of John, and Lafayette wading through the crowd toward him. A quick glance over the room reveals Hercules already making friends with a group of women, and, a little further back, Eliza and Alexander dancing, Alexander clearly watching the scene between Aaron, John and Lafayette play out.

“Aaron,” John says again, and of course it was John.

“John,” Aaron says, all exasperation.

Lafayette at least looks guilty, a hand on John’s shoulder like maybe he’ll just pull him away bodily.

“I see why you didn’t want to come out with us tonight,” John looks strangely satisfied, “Who is this?”

Aaron opens his mouth, but they haven’t exchanged a single word, much less names, “Uh…”

He turns to look over his shoulder. The guy looks a little annoyed to suddenly be in the midst of introductions, but says politely, “Rohit.”

John looks blank, and Lafayette looks impressed. Before John can regroup, before anyone starts to feel the need for small talk, Lafayette finally pulls John away, “So sorry to interrupt. We’re going now. Keep on, keeping on.”

John is saying something angry, it’s always angry with him, and, beyond them, Alexander is watching the scene over Eliza’s shoulder, expression unreadable. Aaron doesn’t want to have anything to do with it, he just wants to go back to the feeling of Rohit’s body against his, so he turns around and tries to regain their rhythm.

Rohit seems willing to go along with this, but when the music shifts to something slower, he says, “An ex?”

Aaron looks at him, surprised, “No.”

Rohit accepts that without comment, and leans in for a kiss, deep and full of promise. Two songs later they leave without a backward glance, and Aaron spends the rest of the night too busy learning Rohit’s body to think about Alexander’s annoying friends.

#

On Monday at lunch, Alexander asks if Aaron had a good weekend. There’s no inflection to the question, and so Aaron simply says, “Yes.”

John is still angry for some reason, or maybe no reason, he never seems to need much, “Did you even learn that guy’s last name?”

Aaron looks at him mildly, “No.”

Hercules laughs, and says, “Who knew quiet Aaron had such game?”

Aaron just shrugs, and Lafayette says, admiringly, “Hidden depths, hidden depths.”

Everyone laughs, except John, and then, to Aaron’s relief, they turn to other topics.

After lunch, when Alexander and Eliza have peeled off to the philosophy class they’re taking together, and Hercules and John have gone back to their room, Lafayette lingers, and follows Aaron toward the math building. Aaron is pretty sure that art student Lafayette doesn’t actually have a reason to go to the math building, so he raises a questioning eyebrow.

Lafayette laughs awkwardly, “Look, I just wanted to say sorry for John.”

“Is that your job?”

Lafayette sighs, “No, but, I don’t know. Sorry.”

Aaron is tired of this, so, even though he’s running late for class, he asks what he’s been wondering since the first night they met, “What’s his problem with me anyway?”

Lafayette looks away, and then finally says, “Okay, look. I’m not trying to gossip, but I guess you have a right to know.”

Aaron waits patiently.

“See, the thing is, like the first week of class, John and Alexander hooked up.”

Aaron didn’t know that, but it’s not surprising somehow.

Lafayette goes on, “Well, I guess Alexander thought it was like a no strings friend thing, and John…not so much.”

That makes sense, explains a lot, from how John seems to vacillate between agreeing with every idea Alexander has, to arguing bitterly with him, the way John seems perpetually uncomfortable around Eliza, but- “What does that have to do with me?”

Lafayette sighs again, “I guess, one time after, when you guys were in sociology together, Alexander told John he thought you were hot.”

Aaron stops in place, flattering sure, but, “That’s it? That’s- That’s the only reason?”

Lafayette shrugs helplessly, “It’s the only reason I know.”

Aaron gapes at him in disbelief, before finally pulling himself together enough to say, “I don’t have time for this.”

Lafayette takes a step back toward the humanities side of campus, “I’m sorry,” he says again.

Aaron just shakes his head and goes to class, leaving him behind, and pushing the whole mess from his mind.

He tries not to let himself think about it much, since it doesn’t really change anything. He can hardly address something so irrational. The next time they all hang out he watches the way Eliza, Alexander and John interact with the new information in mind, mostly struck by Eliza’s patience. Although, even that seems to have a limit, right before she says she’s off to hang with the girls, she looks a little tense, and she pointedly avoids looking at John as she bids them all goodbye.  

The other part, the flattering part, Aaron only lets himself think about in his rare fantasy sessions. In his fantasies it’s not something that Alexander thought once, long before he’d even talked to Aaron, long before he’d gotten to know how awkward Aaron can be. In Aaron’s fantasies Alexander still thinks it, wants Aaron as much as Aaron wants him, and says so when Aaron pins him to beds, couches, walls, or desks.

#

The rest of the semester passes much the same, tests and papers replacing dancing and drinking toward the end, but they all survive with grades intact.

Alexander and Eliza disappear for much of the last couple of weeks, storing up time together in preparation for the separation of summer. Alexander is staying on campus, taking summer classes, and Eliza is going home and then later on a European vacation with her family.

Aaron is also staying for summer classes. Sally is studying abroad, and there was no way he was going back to his aunt and uncle’s, might as well get ahead on classes. Sadly John will also be there for the summer. Hercules is going home to work at the family business for the summer, and Lafayette back to France. Samuel did not communicate his plans, and Aaron did not care to ask.

Aaron is unsure how a summer with just Alexander, John, and John’s unsettled feelings, will go, but within a week Alexander has picked up a new friend in that easy way of his. Her name is Maria, and she’s in one of Alexander’s history classes. She’s smart, and outgoing enough to jump right in with Alexander and John’s arguments, and for awhile it seems fine, she seems like the right addition to balance the unsteadiness of the three of them, and a rough equilibrium is reached.

As the summer heat reaches its peak, Aaron starts to notice a shift in the way Alexander and Maria act around one another, distracted in their arguments. Maria brushing up against Alexander when they study together, his eyes catching on the curve of her hip, the red of her lipstick, and suddenly the equilibrium is lost, unbalanced in a direction Aaron hadn’t thought to worry about. It’s stupid, how could Alexander even think of it, think of betraying Eliza in that way? Alexander seems to know it too - fighting with himself, on some days cold and distant with Maria, but others following her every move with a hungry gaze.

Aaron tries once, to talk to Alexander about it, just the two of them up late in the stifling heat of Alexander’s dorm room, “Alexander?”

Alexander looks up, tired and innocent looking in the hard light of the dorm’s energy saving bulbs.

Aaron tries to figure out what to say, “You won’t do anything to hurt Eliza, will you?” The question feels insufficient, but the implications are there, that Aaron sees what’s happening, that he disapproves.

The answer seems as insufficient as the question, “I won’t. I would never hurt her.” Aaron isn’t sure if Alexander believes what he’s saying, but Aaron doesn’t. Aaron can feel the lie of it, feel the untruth under Alexander’s sincere expression.

John can see it all too, and perhaps the most unexpected result is the way he and Aaron are thrown into an uneasy alliance, both watching a wreck they have no power to stop. John might resent Alexander’s relationship with Eliza, but he doesn’t seem to want this either. Even so, if he talks to Alexander it has as much effect as Aaron’s conversation, and the wreck continues to unfold.

The day the crash finally happens they’re all studying together in Alexander’s room. Maria is sitting next to Alexander on the floor, and she keeps whispering her ideas to Alexander, breath tickling his ear, in theory so she doesn’t disturb John and Aaron, focused on other classes, but there isn’t a single person in the room who believes it.

Alexander’s eyes get darker every time she does it, and he’s clearly not very focused on his reading, the pages turning less and less often, until they’ve stopped. Aaron and John are both pretending studiously not to notice, so Aaron doesn’t know what happens to turn the tide, but abruptly Alexander gets up, and Maria scrambles after him, “I think we’re going to Maria’s room to work on the project,” Alexander says, “We don’t want to disturb you.”

It would be more convincing if Alexander wasn’t obviously hard in his pants, and if either he or Maria could make eye contact with them, but, before John or Aaron have a chance to respond, they’re gone, books left behind, further undercutting their lie.

Aaron and John stare at each other in blank amazement for a moment, before John says, “Did Alexander just leave us in his room?”

Aaron can only answer, “Yes.”

They stare at each other for another unsure moment until a long moan breaks into their stunned silence, pulling their gaze toward the window.

John scrambles over to look, and his small gasp makes Aaron too curious not to follow.

Alexander’s room is only on the second floor, which means that they have a perfect view of where Alexander and Maria have apparently not even made it further than the nearest tree. It’s off the path, bushes blocking the view from the sidewalk, but anyone thinking even slightly would know that it’s perfectly visible from the dorms.

Apparently neither Maria or Alexander are thinking, because he has her pushed up against the tree and they’re kissing deep and sloppy. She’s hooked one leg around Alexander and is grinding into his thigh, stuttery and desperate. As they watch, he slides a hand into her tiny shorts, barely even beginning to stroke her before she’s coming, a stuttering groan drifting in through the open window.

Aaron should look away, he should, but instead he watches as Alexander keeps stroking her, straight through the first orgasm, and through more kisses, until her hips start restlessly rocking against his hand, until she’s panting into Alexander’s mouth, until her face creases in an ecstasy like pain, and she comes again, this time silent and with a force that leaves her boneless, Alexander and the tree doing most of the work of holding her up.

She wraps her arms around Alexander’s neck, looking like the filthy version of a slow dance, and whispers something to him. Alexander braces himself against the tree and thrusts against her hip, grunting slightly. She holds on, and takes what must be a bruising rhythm against the rough bark of the tree until Alexander stiffens against her, burying his face in her neck while he shakes through his own orgasm.

When they shakily pull away from the tree, they’re a mess. Alexander has sweated through his shirt, and the friction against the tree has pulled Maria’s hair mostly out of the tight ponytail she’d started with, bits of bark in the tangles. Alexander laughs and pulls one out, and suddenly it seems too intimate to watch, guilt flooding through Aaron as he realizes what he’s done.

He looks away, uncomfortably aware that he’s hard. John is still watching, his expression somewhere between aroused and heartbroken. Aaron reaches out and pulls him back from the window, this is bad for all of them.

John shrugs out from under Aaron’s hand, but looks away, “Whatever, you’re no better than me.”

Aaron doesn’t say anything, and John continues, “I see you watching him, you want him too.” He looks pointedly at the bulge in Aaron’s pants, and Aaron suddenly understands a little better John’s resentment of him.

It doesn’t actually make Aaron feel any more charitable toward John though, and he just shrugs, “At least I’m not in love with him. At least I’m not hung up on him because we hooked up _once_.”

John shoves Aaron, “Shut up.”

He’s angry, but it’s so hypocritical, Aaron can see that he’s hard too, “You’re just mad that he’s cheating and it’s not with you.”

“Shut up,” John says again, and pushes Aaron again too, this time hard enough that Aaron falls into the bed. Into Alexander’s bed.

They both freeze for a moment, Aaron sprawled across Alexander’s bed, and John above him flushed with anger and arousal both. It’s the most attractive Aaron’s ever found him, and Aaron is still hard, still hungry for something he can’t have. John’s breath is coming too fast, his gaze is fixed on Aaron, and when Aaron reaches one hand out to him, an invitation, he accepts without delay, climbing into Alexander’s bed, climbing onto Aaron.

John presses their hips together and grinds into Aaron, both satisfying and not through all the layers of their clothes. His breath huffs warmly against Aaron’s neck, and Aaron closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to see John’s face. The sheets, like the sheets of many dorm beds Aaron’s been in, probably should have been washed weeks ago. They smell stale, sweat and dirty skin, but under that, over that, they smell like Alexander, faint traces of his shampoo and the personal scent of him. Aaron breaths the smell in, and holds John against himself, fingers digging into his back. John’s shirt is damp with sweat, but his back is strong and the muscles there work as John thrusts against Aaron.

It’s just not enough friction though, and Aaron is growing weary of John’s grunting in his ear, so he slides a hand in between them, working into John’s pants and past the elastic waistband of his underwear to grip his cock. John’s breath hitches into a moan, and Aaron sets up a quick pace. John buries his face in the crook of Aaron’s neck, just as Alexander had done with Maria, hiding there as Aaron works his already leaking cock, and in just a moment he’s coming, with a name on his lips, “Alexander…”

Perhaps in another context, perhaps another person would find it horrifying to have another’s name whispered into their skin, but Aaron finds the deception of it fascinating, and his cock jumps, but John just lies heavily on top of Aaron, gasping for breath, perhaps savoring the lie he’s telling himself.

Finally, John lifts his head. His guilty look is hardly arousing, but he slides a hand into Aaron’s clothes to return the favor. He knows what he’s doing, but there’s something about his hand, something about him that seems wrong, and Aaron can’t quite find satisfaction.

Finally, Aaron reaches up and pulls John against him, “Tell me you don’t love him.”

John startles a little, but then slowly breathes the lie into Aaron’s skin, “I don’t love him.” The falsehood tickles against Aaron’s neck, a shivering, shimmering feeling that leaves him gasping, “Again.” And so John whispers it again, and again, until finally, finally Aaron comes, fingers twisting in John’s hair.

After, clothes sticking against themselves, and guilt making it difficult to make eye contact, John and Aaron gather their books. John pulls at the sheets, trying to remember how the bed had been rumpled. They part at the door, one glance enough to convey that they’re never going to talk about this, much less do it again.

The rest of the summer is unbearably awkward, and they all spin off in their own directions. Maria and Alexander are still fucking from what Aaron can tell, but neither of them seem particularly happy about it. Aaron can barely look at Alexander for a week, wondering if he had suspected anything, if the bed had smelled like sex when he had returned. When Aaron sees John he’s hit with the memory of those two contradictory whispers, the name and the lie, the feeling of his sweaty back as he worked against Aaron, and his anger as he’d pushed Aaron into the bed. None of it makes Aaron want to spend time around him.

#

It’s both a relief and a source of dread when the others return for the start of the semester. At first Aaron thinks that Alexander, clearly feeling guilty, will come clean, but instead he pretends that nothing happened.

Aaron doesn’t think this is fair to Eliza, but he can’t tell if it’s his own strange relationship to the truth that makes it so difficult for him to see this lie as anything other than a poison now at the base of their relationship. He tries to talk to John about it, but John just says, “Are we supposed to judge him?” and Aaron is forcefully reminded of John’s weight on him, grinding him into Alexander’s dirty sheets, and can’t answer.

So Aaron doesn’t say anything, but neither can he be around Alexander and Eliza, around Eliza’s ignorance and Alexander’s deception. Aaron starts avoiding the group, focusing instead on his school work. His classes are demanding this year, and he spends his time in the library or his room studying.

He’s glad that he was the odd man out when the group applied for a quad, glad for his single room, not sure how he would handle having to see Alexander and John every single day, knowing their lies, or even having to see Hercules and Lafayette, knowing what they didn’t know.

This unsteady balance collapses just after midterms, when Maria’s boyfriend finds out she cheated and calls Alexander out in a very public Facebook rant. Apparently Eliza finds out from some random person on Facebook who links her to it, and from there the drama unfurls.

Aaron is doubly glad he’s not living with Alexander and crew, when, over lunch, Lafayette tiredly reports a solid night of yelling and crying, and then a second night when Eliza’s older sister comes down from NYU and takes time out of comforting Eliza to stop by for some more yelling.

The relationship is decidedly over, and Alexander is less than popular with a large swath of the student population, particularly women. He doesn’t handle it well. Aaron has yet more reason to be grateful to not be involved when, at lunch again a couple of weeks later, Lafayette reports that Alexander has responded to the break up, to the guilt, by drinking heavily, hooking up indiscriminately, and rarely going to his classes.

Aaron witnesses this for himself that Saturday. He’s at a party, well on his way to securing a third hook-up with Yana, the most flexible person he’s ever met, when he spots Alexander across the room. He would just turn around and pretend he hadn’t, but Alexander is drunk. He’s swaying and uncoordinated, and yet there’s some guy there, some guy in his space. As Aaron watches in growing horror, the guy leans in and kisses Alexander with clear intent. Alexander seems into it, but he also seems to be leaning on the guy for support, too drunk to keep himself steady.

Aaron pulls away from Yana, “Sorry…”

She looks confused, but Aaron just pushes his way through the crowd to where the guy is starting to pull Alexander with him, away from the party. The guy is big, he seems sober enough to know better, and Aaron is furious.

He grabs the guy’s shoulder, “You’re going to let go of my friend.”

The guy says, “What?” But, as he turns to glare at Aaron, he lets go of Alexander.

Alexander sways, his support gone, and Aaron reaches out to steady him.

“Go away,” Alexander slurs, but he holds onto Aaron’s arm for balance, a mixed message at best.

The guy is still glaring at both of them, and Aaron glares right back, and lets his anger weight his words when he says, ready for a fight, “You’re going to leave, and from now on you’re only going to fuck people who are capable of saying yes.”

The guy looks angrier than ever, but he apparently doesn’t want to fight, because he just turns and goes, leaving Aaron with Alexander slumped against him.  

Aaron watches until he’s sure the guy is gone, and then sighs, suddenly tired, and sets about getting Alexander back to his room, “Did you bring a coat?”

Alexander doesn’t seem to understand the question, answering with his own, “Why did you do that? I was fine.”

Aaron gives up, and begins the slow process of guiding Alexander across campus. He lets Alexander wear his coat, worried about the way he’s shivering in the night air.

They make it without any falls, a minor miracle considering Alexander’s stumbling. Alexander digs through his pockets and manages to produce his keys, and Aaron uses them to open the door. The suite is dark, and Aaron guides Alexander back toward the room he shares with Lafayette.

When he flicks on the lights, Lafayette turns sleepily over in bed, “Alexander?” When Lafayette sees the two of them, the way Aaron is practically holding Alexander up, his face falls, but he gets out of bed and takes over, and Aaron collects his coat, leaving Lafayette to it, his duty discharged.

#

The second time Aaron finds Alexander at a party, too drunk to be there, Alexander doesn’t argue about being dragged out, already queasy and pale. Aaron, assessing that look of nausea cautiously, avoids loaning him any outerwear. It’s a close thing, but they manage to make it back to the apartment, Alexander bolting straight for the bathroom when they enter, and he probably doesn’t even notice that they manage to interrupt John and his new boyfriend making out on the suite’s couch.

John and the boyfriend jump apart when Aaron opens the door and Alexander bolts in, and they all wince as retching noises immediately ensue from the bathroom. Aaron’s just grateful Alexander managed to wait until Aaron was out of splatter range.

John and...Ricky? Aaron thinks that’s it, look awkward, John unwilling to make eye contact with Aaron, and Ricky confused. John doesn’t say anything to either of them, and Aaron certainly isn’t going to help him out. Ricky is just opening his mouth, about to launch an attempt to drown out the sounds of vomiting, and break the awkward silence, when Hercules emerges from the bedroom.

Without saying anything, John grabs Ricky’s hand and tugs him into the bedroom, still avoiding looking at Aaron.

Hercules seems offended and surprised all at once at his sudden sexiling, and he looks to Aaron, “What the…”

Aaron shrugs, “I brought Alexander back.”

Hercules raises an eyebrow, “I heard.”

They contemplate each other for a moment, and Aaron makes a motion toward the exit, when Hercules says, “Okay, look I get why John is awkward with Alexander, but what is going on with you two now? It’s way worse. Don’t tell me you hooked up with John too.”

Aaron doesn’t say anything, but his flinch gives him away.

Hercules gapes at him, “Why am I in a soap opera?”

Aaron shrugs again, “I’m going to…” He points toward the door.

Hercules waves him off, “Yeah, yeah. Thanks for dragging Alexander back.”

Aaron pauses mid-escape, “Have you guys...talked to him about this? He’s a mess.”

Hercules sighs, “Oh we’ve talked. Have you?”

Aaron blinks uncomprehendingly, “Me?”

“We’ve all tried, but he’s going to fail out of his scholarship if he doesn’t get his shit together soon. And he respects you.”

Aaron isn’t sure about that, but he just says, “I’ll think about it,” and flees.  

#

He does try, but Alexander doesn’t respond to any of his texts, and Aaron isn’t even sure when or where to catch him sober these days.

The next Friday, Aaron is too tired, too swamped with homework to go out. He stays in and works on OChem until the letters start to blur together, then goes to bed, wondering, as he drifts off, if Alexander is safe tonight.

His question is answered less than an hour later, by the sound of someone pounding on his door. It’s almost one AM, and it takes Aaron a moment to wake up enough to realize that the sound is coming from _his_ door and not a neighbor’s. He turns on the light and opens the door, not sure who he expects to be there. He certainly doesn’t expect it to be Alexander, but there he is.

Alexander is drunk again, swaying slightly, and flushed. He smells strongly of alcohol, and Aaron wrinkles his nose at the sharp scent of it, but opens the door wide enough to let Alexander in.

Alexander has only been to Aaron’s room once since Aaron moved in, so thoroughly have they drifted apart this year. He looks around, taking in the stacks of papers and books, and the sparse decorations, before collapsing, drunkenly loose-limbed, on Aaron’s bed, “You weren’t there.”

Aaron sighs, and sits next to him, “I wasn’t where?”

Alexander looks at him and says, carefully articulated, “At the intervention.”

Aaron is confused, “What?”

Alexander laughs, “My friends ambushed me. ‘Alexander you need to do better, Alexander you’re going to fail, Alexander you’re too smart to throw away your life like this.’”

Aaron studies him, “And your response was to go out and get drunk again?”

Alexander frowns, “You weren’t there. Do you think I’m a lost cause?”

He looks pitiful, eyes blurry with alcohol, sad, even if it’s of his own making, and Aaron can’t help but reach out to smooth back the unbrushed hair that’s falling over his eyes, “Alexander, you can fix this. You’re going to be fine. I believe in you.”

Alexander studies him, squinting as if it’s hard to focus, and then finally, with the sort of quick shift that belongs to the truly drunk, he pulls Aaron into a hug. “You weren’t there,” he repeats, voice wobbling.

Aaron cautiously hugs him back, trying to ignore the strong alcohol scent, and Alexander buries his face in Aaron’s neck, crying, a quick storm that passes as soon as it started.

Alexander is even more of a mess after, face pale and streaked with tears. Aaron offers Alexander some tissues to mop up the tears and blow his nose, which he does with a shaky hand. After, he leans against the wall, and closes his eyes, but then he immediately sits back up, eyes open again, “Spinning…” he says vaguely, and swallows thickly.

Aaron has a bad feeling about where this is going, casting around for his keys, while Alexander sits stiffly on the edge of the bed, a sheen of sweat breaking out on his forehead, breathing carefully through his nose. He swallows once again, twice, “Uh, I think-” He cuts himself off with an audible clack of teeth, pressing the back of one hand to his mouth.

Despite the obvious warning signs, when Aaron tries to get Alexander up, he’s unwilling to move, and although Aaron finally gets him to his feet, Aaron has to give up on making it to the bathroom when he feels the way Alexander is trembling under his hand. Instead, Aaron points him to the small sink, glad for this saving grace of his single. Alexander takes the four shaky steps need to get there, leaning heavily over the bowl, struggling against the inevitable, until the alcohol comes rushing back up with an unfortunate splashing noise.

Aaron tries not to pay too much attention, waiting for it to be over, but one round of heaves is followed by another. Eventually Aaron pushes the desk chair over to where Alexander is still braced over the sink, worried that he’s going to fall over and not seeing an end in sight. Even when it seems like the worst is over, Alexander slumps against the edge of the sink and can’t be persuaded to leave, apparently too queasy and too dizzy to think of standing. Aaron doesn’t even want to know how much he drank, instead focusing on trying to get him to hold down any water, texting Lafayette and Hercules to let them know that Alexander is more or less alive, and googling at what point you should take someone to the hospital for alcohol poisoning.

It’s a long night, but finally at six, sun already rising, Alexander manages to keep down a whole glass of water, and then, twenty minutes later, another. Exhausted, Aaron makes Alexander brush his teeth, wash his face, and change into some of Aaron’s sweats. Then Aaron arranges Alexander on the edge of the bed with the trash bin, just in case, and crawls over him to sleep against the wall.

Aaron drops off to sleep almost immediately, and, as far as he knows, so does Alexander. When Aaron finally wakes up, it’s dark outside, almost eight. The closest cafeteria closes at eight on Saturday, so Aaron leaves Alexander sleeping there, and just makes it in time to collect several gatorades, crackers, two of the least terrible dinners still available, and, at the last minute, a cup of soft serve.

Barely juggling all of it, Aaron goes back to the bedroom, where Alexander is just starting to stir. He groans when Aaron turns on the light, but obediently takes Aaron’s key, towel, and shower caddy to go wash.

While he’s gone, Aaron eats one of the dinners, checks his e-mail and the news, making sure nothing of note happened while he slept through a whole day.

When Alexander returns, hair pulled up in a wet knot, he eagerly accepts the painkillers Aaron offers. He picks at the second dinner, manages a gatorade, and most of the ice cream.

When it’s apparent he’s done with the food, Aaron asks, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Alexander looks pained, but says, “About…”

Aaron rolls his eyes, “Take your pick: the intervention your friends apparently had, your break-up, the way you’re apparently trying to throw your whole future away down a bottle.”

Alexander doesn’t say anything for a minute, pushing the cold bits of food around with a plastic fork. Finally he says, barely more than a whisper, “I don’t even know why I did it. I liked Maria, but I _loved_ Eliza.” He puts down the fork and takes a deep breath before looking imploringly at Aaron, “How can I know I won’t do it again if I don’t even understand why I did it? It was like...I just wanted to see how far I could go, how much I could have.”

Aaron can hear the truth of all of it, and looks calmly at Alexander, “Well, now you know. Not that far. Not that much.”

Alexander laughs one bitter huff of laughter, “Not much at all. Eliza hates me, Maria hates me, for fucks sake, John can barely look at me and he’s my friend.”

Aaron says, “I think that’s his problem more than yours.”

Alexander chews on his lip, “Maybe.” His face darkens, “I’m probably going to fail out anyway.”

“That’s up to you,” Aaron says with a certain lack of sympathy.

Alexander looks away, “Yeah…”

Aaron softens, “But you can ask your friends for help.”

Alexander looks back, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

#

After dinner, Alexander goes back to his suite, with the agreement that Aaron will swing by at ten the next morning to figure out where Alexander is in all his classes, and help him come up with a game plan.

When Hercules lets Aaron in the next morning, he claps him on the shoulder, “Thanks.”

Aaron doesn’t say anything, he wasn’t the one who planned whatever intervention had happened, just the one on cleanup duty.

He helps Alexander figure out how badly he’s doing in all his classes, how much he still needs to pass, and which classes have extra credit. They come up with a careful plan for Alexander to start going to office hours for all his classes, both to catch up and to curry favor in case of any flexibility. It’s going to be tight, Alexander is going to have to absolutely ace most of his tests and papers to emerge from the semester with the grades he needs to keep his scholarship. He’s lucky that the break-up was after midterms, although perhaps dragged down by the guilt, his midterm grades were not his usual best.

Alexander throws himself into the project of saving his college career with the same energy he’s used the last few weeks in his attempts to sabotage himself. He and Aaron spend night after night in the library, Aaron splitting his time between his own heavy course load, and helping Alexander study for tests, or scanning Alexander’s papers for typos or logical inconsistencies.

John or Hercules are better choices for paper proofing, but things are still tense with Alexander’s roommates, the people who have had to put up with constantly wondering if he was going to come home alive, and then having to deal with his drunk self when he did. No apology can easily smooth over that, and Alexander’s guilt makes it difficult for him to ask them for favors, even when they would probably be willing.

It leaves a lot of work for Aaron, but he can see that Alexander is sincere in his determination to do better, and Aaron isn’t going to abandon him now that he’s actually trying. Aaron works with Alexander, even when it leaves Aaron struggling to find the time to keep his own grades up, and in the end it’s worth it, because Alexander just scrapes what he needs. Aaron’s grades are slightly below his own standards, but still near the top of all his classes and worth the sacrifice.

#

And then it’s Christmas break again. Aaron is staying on campus, Sally off in the mountains once more. Alexander was invited to Hercules’s along with John, but Alexander declines, confiding to Aaron during one late finals study session that he doesn’t feel comfortable taking that kind of favor after the last semester.

Aaron’s almost forgotten how empty campus is with nearly everyone gone. He and Alexander spend the first two days mostly catching up the sleep that they’d missed during the last frantic finals push, meeting for sluggish dinners, and not much else.

After that, Alexander proposes, what he seems to feel is the brilliant idea, that Aaron should move into his suite for the break, “Your dorm is _creepy_ quiet.” And well...that’s true, and Aaron would still have a room to himself in the suite, his own space, so Aaron packs a bag and carries it across campus to his temporary dorm.

It seems like a good idea until he’s standing in Hercules and John’s room, as Alexander says, “Take whichever bed, we’ll just wash the sheets before they get back. We can wash them now too, if you want.”

Aaron doesn’t have to think twice, there’s no way he’s taking John’s bed, something strange about the very idea of sleeping where John probably has sex with his new boyfriend, probably makes that same desperate, gasping noise right before he comes.  

Alexander evaluatively watches the decisive way Aaron throws his stuff on Hercules’s bed, “You really did hook up with John, didn’t you? I thought Hercules was totally off-base.”

Aaron should have known there was no way that little piece of gossip would stay with Hercules, he supposes Lafayette knows too, and he can’t help feeling a little annoyed. He crosses his arms defensively, “Why do you care?”

Alexander’s eyebrows fly up, “That’s a yes. Because I thought you hated each other.”

Aaron scoffs, “And you were best friends with everyone you hooked up with this semester?”

Eyebrows still up Alexander says, “Well, I didn’t _hate_ them.”

Aaron turns to the bed, picking his bag back up and putting it on the floor, “I don’t hate him.”

Alexander asks, “When?”

Aaron starts stripping the sheets off the bed, filled with horror at the idea of having to explain, of what he might say, “What does it matter?”

“I don’t- I guess it doesn’t,” Alexander sounds resigned.

They don’t talk about it again.

#

Aaron and Alexander spend the first few days of break visiting all their favorite bookstores, even taking the long bus trip back out to the first one they’d visited together. Two days before Christmas these adventures are brought to a halt by a blizzard. Luckily, the news had been nothing but warnings, and they’d stocked up on food, because even the cafeteria closes under the drifts of snow. They spend two days watching the snow pile up outside, and another two days, while the city digs itself out, more or less trapped in the dorm, straight through Christmas.

They bring back _Lord of the Rings_ Christmas, which is starting to feel like a tradition, but after, when transportation is finally working again, they feel restless, and decide, spur of the moment, to take the train into the city.

Aaron draws on the money his parents left him, paying for a few nights at a cheap hotel - cheap not because he couldn’t easily afford better, but so that Alexander doesn’t feel the unequal weight of it more than he has to. And in return, Alexander shows him New York, shocked to learn that Aaron’s never been to the city. It’s an unusual picture of New York, all the places a foster kid could afford to go, and then all the places a foster kid would go if he had money. It’s cold, but they hardly care, caught up in the excitement of being out of the college bubble, of being free from the pressure of classes for the moment.

The trip ends of course, but Aaron won’t forget the city, won’t forget the towering buildings, so different from the small town of his childhood, and won’t forget Alexander’s enthusiasm, the stories he’d told, the small adventures they’d shared together.

On New Year’s Eve they get invited to a house party by some of Lafayette’s grad student friends. It’s a rather sedate thing, especially since neither Aaron nor Alexander wants to drink more than a beer, Aaron, as always, worried about a loose tongue, and Alexander still penitent from his semester of binge drinking. However, one of the latecomers to the party brings a handful of blunts and a generous spirit. A few drags leaves Aaron feeling warm and happy, relaxed into Alexander’s side as Alexander debates...something with one of the grad students.

Time slips by in a bit of a haze, and Aaron misses the exact moment when the new year starts, but he doesn’t care, content here in this warm house, with this group of people, with Alexander’s arm casually thrown over his shoulders.

The next week, when break ends and Aaron has to move back into his little single, it seems strange somehow, the familiar space suddenly foreign and hollow.

#

The spring semester passes in a much less eventful manner than the fall. Alexander manages to slowly repair his relationships with his roommates, both a matter of them forgiving him and Alexander forgiving himself. John and Ricky grow closer, and John begins to be able to make eye contact with Aaron and Alexander again. Aaron finds himself once again invited to group activities, no longer driven out by the guilt of his own secrets or of Alexander’s.

That summer they scatter, John staying with a cousin, Hercules home, Lafayette to France and, in an unexpected opportunity for someone who’s hardly left the tri-state area, Alexander with him. Aaron can’t even make Sally’s graduation ceremony before flying off as soon as finals end for a summer study abroad program for engineering students in Germany.

The program is mostly aimed at the mechanical engineers, but Aaron is still able to get a couple of required courses out of the way, and most importantly gets to travel. After last summer, he has no desire to hang around campus, and he’s never been outside of the U.S. so, even if the courses are dull, it will be worth it.

As it turns out, the trip is anything but dull, because, before the plane even leaves American air space, Aaron meets Theodosia. Theodosia is a senior, almost twenty-three to Aaron’s twenty, taking one last summer of classes before starting a job. She seems drawn to Aaron, and Aaron is desperately drawn to her.

She’s an environmental engineering major, she’s obviously smart, and she’s beautiful - generous curves, a sly smile, and dark eyes. She lies to him when he asks if she’s single. It’s blatant enough that Aaron wonders if even someone less attuned to lies would spot it, but he’s helplessly drawn to her, to the lie, to the way her smile dimples even as she tells it. Somewhere over the Atlantic ocean they join the mile high club, awkward in the crowded bathroom, kisses tasting flat in the filtered air.

In Germany, Aaron and Theodosia manage to unofficially trade rooms, a series of rearrangements, until they end up in the same dorm room, the faculty coordinators pretending not to know. Aaron’s most enduring memory of his first time out of the country might be that small dorm room and the hours they spend there.

Aaron’s never had sex with the same person more than a handful of times, and it’s amazing to get to know someone’s body this well, to know all the little things that push her over the edge, the small sounds she makes. They learn each other until it seems like he knows the feeling of her clenching around his fingers, tongue, cock, nearly as well as he knows his own orgasm. And despite her easy lies outside of bed, Theodosia is always honest during sex, if Aaron’s not pleasing her, she’ll let him know, and if he is, everyone knows.

They spend time together out of bed too. Theodosia makes friends easily, she seems to be close to at least one person in each of the little cliques that form within days of their arrival, and any time a group is planning something fun she’s invited. Sometimes at these events, other students, people who know Theodosia better from campus, take Aaron aside, warn him that Theodosia is lying to him, but he only says, flatly, honestly, “I know.”

Theodosia and Aaron explore Berlin together, they take short day trips to other parts of Germany, and a couple of longer jaunts to neighboring countries. They eat heavy German food, and sample various German beers. They watch soccer games surrounded by highly invested locals. They go dancing, and kiss under the flashing lights of the dance floor until they leave, desperate for one another.

In July, there’s a heatwave and together they hide from the temperature on Museum Island, gradually exploring each of the five museums. The only truly cool place they find in the hot city, is the crypt under the Berlin cathedral, where royal tombs lie in state, some centuries old and crumbling with decay. The place sends a weird buzzing down Aaron’s spine and, despite the relief from the heat it offers, he can’t stand to spend more than a few minutes there, even when Theodosia teases him.   

So, Aaron’s summer isn’t dull, but no matter how good things are with Theodosia their whole relationship is built on a lie and Aaron doesn’t expect anything beyond the summer. It’s a shock when, the day before they fly back, Theodosia tearfully confesses, telling Aaron that she’s so sorry for lying, that she really likes him. Aaron isn’t sure how to respond to this, suprised by her apparent sincerity, but not sure what she wants him to say or do. Whatever she might think, it’s not like she’s been leading him on.

They part on an awkward note, sitting separately on the flight home, and exchanging stilted goodbyes at the airport.

#

Aaron goes back to campus and Theodosia goes off to Denver, to her new job, to her boyfriend and a life without Aaron. And Aaron, who never expected anything from her, finds himself missing her, finds himself shocked by his own helpless longing for someone he never even thought to fight for. He’s never spent that much time with one person before, and didn’t know how attached he could become, didn’t know how he would miss the way she always wanted to sleep skin to skin even when it was far too hot. He didn’t know how he would miss her laugh, the way it made her shake against him. He didn’t know how he would miss the way she patiently waited for him to form his sentences, or how he would miss her own easy chatter. It’s like he’s lost a piece of himself, but one he didn’t even know he had until it was gone, an aching emptiness in his chest.

Lost in his pain, Aaron half purposefully, and half inadvertently avoids a stream of invitations from Alexander, invitations to eat together, to study together, to hang out. For their junior year Alexander and his friends, although mindful of the mistakes of last year, have decided to rent a house off campus together, and to Aaron’s surprise they invited him along. It’s a little more than Alexander, Hercules, or John could really afford, even split five ways, but, after some careful negotiation, Aaron and Lafayette agree to pay a bit more in exchange for the larger bedrooms. There are only four bedrooms in the house, but Hercules and John, who have been sharing since freshman year, agree that they can split again. It’s a good deal since John’s boyfriend has his own room in the apartment he’s renting, and John is over there more often than not anyway.

In theory, Aaron should find it nice to have roommates, less lonely. And in practice there’s some truth to that. When Aaron first arrived at the house, still exhausted from the travel and the breakup, Alexander had swept him into a hug, said, “I missed you,” and Aaron had, for a moment, been distracted from the growing ache of losing Theodosia. But on the other hand, there is much less privacy compared to Aaron’s old single room. It makes it harder to hide that something is bothering him, opens Aaron up to questions, and there is no escaping Alexander when he’s determined.

Aaron had thought that, in the business of classes starting, and with his own reputation for being quiet, no one would notice his struggle to leave Theodosia in the summer where she belongs. He spends the first week of classes lost in that fight, hiding away in his room whenever possible, going over their parting, imagining he’d done it differently, said something amazing and kept her from leaving. The others are busy with finding classrooms, buying books, running into old acquaintances, and settling into the new house, but somehow, in the midst of all that, Alexander seems to always notice Aaron’s absences, sending him texts that Aaron mostly ignores, too busy trying to keep from collapsing in on himself, from falling into the gap Theodosia has left in his life.  

Maybe Aaron gives away the game when he goes to bed early on Friday instead of going out with the group for their first weekend back, their first weekend as upperclassmen. It’s not even quite dark out, but Aaron can’t keep fake smiling, and Lafayette has produced a bottle of vodka, which is only going to make everyone louder and happier, so Aaron slips away.

He’s hiding under the covers, in theory trying to sleep, but in reality slipping into a spiral of memories of Theodosia, too aware of how empty his big double bed is, when there’s a knock at his door. He pulls the covers down to stare at the door warily, but doesn’t say anything, hoping whoever it is will take the hint and leave.

Instead, after a moment the door slips open. A little light pours in from hallway, just enough to show that it’s Alexander. Maybe it’s enough that Alexander can see Aaron’s face, can see he’s not asleep, because, instead of leaving, Alexander softly slips in the room, shutting the door behind him.

Aaron still doesn’t move, just watching Alexander, as if perhaps if Aaron stays motionless enough, Alexander might come to the conclusion that Aaron is asleep and leave after all.

Alexander is still for a moment, both he and Aaron frozen in the dark for a few seconds. Then Alexander slowly picks his way through the dim, now only relieved by the slightest bit of dusk and streetlight slipping in through the blinds. He holds a hand in front of himself to keep from running into the bed, and pauses when he makes contact with the edge of the mattress, “Aaron?”

Aaron doesn’t answer, just watching the vague outline of him, still not sure why Alexander is here, in the dark, here in Aaron’s room uninvited.

Alexander uses the mattress to steady himself, and kneels down so he’s at Aaron’s eye level, next to the bed. Aaron can just barely see the lines of his worried expression at this distance. He says, “Aaron, you can tell me to fuck off if that’s what you really want, but I…” He takes a breath, “You helped me when I was in trouble once, and I’m worried. This isn’t- This isn’t like you.”

Aaron doesn’t answer, working through the idea that Alexander can see through him in this way, and would worry enough, would care enough to push the issue.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to but, did something happen? I don’t know, are you…” Alexander takes a deep breath, “You don’t seem okay, just- Can I help?”

Aaron isn’t sure, but he finally moves, pulling himself into a sitting position, although taking the covers with him, unwilling to emerge from his cocoon. Alexander scrambles back a bit, as if he expects Aaron to be angry, but stops when Aaron doesn’t say anything right away. As usual, Aaron is struggling with his words, trying to decide what he wants to give away. But as always he has to settle for the strictly factual, “I was seeing someone in Germany. Theodosia. She’s- She was- _is_ amazing, but she already had a boyfriend, and a new job in Colorado.” He could stop there, but it doesn’t seem to be the whole picture, not the part that’s really bothering him, “I didn’t expect to miss her like this. I’ve- It’s been difficult.”

Alexander makes a wordless noise, somehow sympathetic, and then, “She was cheating?”

“Yes,” Aaron says, flat.  

“I see,” Alexander falls silent for a moment, and, in the dim light, Aaron can just make out that his expression is one of guilt, as if he had anything to do with it.

Oh. Aaron understands suddenly, “It wasn’t like you’re thinking.”

Alexander won’t look at him, “What am I thinking?”

“You’re thinking that-” That Aaron was some innocent Eliza in this, that he hadn’t walked right into this hurt with his eyes open, that he’d been better than Theodosia, “She told me she was single, but I knew she was lying the whole time. I think everyone on the trip knew by the end.”

“Oh,” Alexander says, soft, “But you thought she’d leave him?”

“No I-” Aaron looks away, hiding his face in the fold of the blankets draped around his shoulders, “I didn’t expect to get attached. I’ve never-” He takes a deep breath, “I’ve never been with anyone...regularly.”

Alexander makes a soft noise of understanding, and a silence falls, Aaron still unwilling to look at Alexander, somehow awkward in the wake of his confession.  

The silence is broken by Alexander leaning forward to tug at Aaron’s sheets, “Are you dressed under here?”

Aaron holds the blankets around himself, resisting Alexander’s playful pulling, “What? Yes!”

“Good,” Alexander tugs sincerely this time, pulling the covers away from Aaron, “This isn’t how you get over a breakup.”

Aaron reaches after the sheets, trying to pull them back, “Should I really take your advice on this?”

“Probably not,” Alexander says, cheerfully, keeping the sheets out of Aaron’s grasp, “But at least you know I know what not to do.”

Aaron gives up, “So what am I supposed to not do?”

Alexander has tossed the sheets aside, and found the bedside light which he turns on with a click, “Don’t avoid your friends.”

Aaron looks away, uncomfortably visible in the yellow light of the old lampshade.

Alexander ignores that, and reaches out a hand, “And…”

Aaron looks at Alexander’s hand and then his face, pointedly not reaching back.

Alexander just wiggles his fingers and makes a ridiculous expression, until Aaron reluctantly concedes, and Alexander grasps his hand tightly, using their connected grip to pull Aaron out of the bed, “And, healing starts with ice cream.”

Aaron isn’t sure about the logic of that, but he does like ice cream.

Alexander leads him to the living room, which is thankfully empty, everyone else presumably done pre-gaming and off to the actual party. Alexander points Aaron to the couch, puts on a children’s movie, and heads to the kitchen. Aaron is starting to suspect that Alexander’s medicine for every hurt is children’s movies and ice cream, but, when Alexander returns with two bowls, Aaron can’t really complain. It’s chocolate, the movie is sweet, Alexander is warm next to Aaron, and he doesn’t protest when Aaron leans into him. Moverover, when Aaron’s mind starts to wander, back to Theodosia, Alexander seems to sense it somehow, and distracts Aaron with commentary on the movie. Ultimately, Aaron has to admit to himself that it’s better than lying awake in his empty bed.

#

Alexander seems to make it his life’s work not to let Aaron brood by himself. Sometimes it’s annoying, but mostly Aaron is grateful for the distraction. Alexander plans group study sessions, meals, regular house movie nights, and drags Aaron out to the occasional party, where he sticks to Aaron’s side like glue.

In normal circumstances, that would interfere with Aaron’s enjoyment of a party. You don’t need someone constantly at your side if you’re trying pick someone from the crowd, to take them home, but Aaron can’t even quite imagine trying to find someone for a random night these days, Theodosia filling his mind whenever he tries to picture it.

Instead, Aaron gets to know the parts of these parties that he rarely used to see - the conversations happening jammed in the corners of the kitchen, the ridiculousness of watching people try to throw dirty ping pong balls in beer, or flip cups faster than their friends, the sometimes fierce debates over the music. All the while, Alexander hangs close to Aaron’s side, sometimes an arm around his shoulders, casually deflecting the questions that Aaron has trouble answering, and keeping Aaron grounded in the here and now.

It tends to leave people with the wrong impression. People start to invite Aaron to parties with the constant tagline, “Bring your boyfriend,” and eventually Aaron gives up on correcting them. He’s not looking to hook up right now, and he’s sure Alexander can make himself clear if someone catches his eye.

To Aaron’s surprise, Alexander’s plan, the series of activities, his constant, reassuring presence, it seems to work. At first it’s just a distraction, keeping Aaron’s mind off the empty ache in his chest, but eventually he starts to go whole hours without thinking of Theodosia, without feeling like his life is colorless without her, instead laughing with Hercules and Lafayette, meeting new people at parties, and marathoning old episodes of _Parks and Rec_ with Alexander.

#

By midterms, Aaron spends more time feeling okay than not. The memory of Theodosia still stings, but Aaron is more or less able to stop asking himself what he could have done differently, to stop believing that if only he’d done something more she wouldn’t have left.

The whole house does well on the flurry of tests and papers that surround midterms, and in celebration they plan to go out to a dance club, but schedules shift and in the end it’s just Alexander, Aaron and Hercules, John off with Ricky, and Lafayette at another friend’s twenty-first birthday party.

At the club, Aaron and Alexander accept the indignity of the dark X’s on the backs of their hands, marking them as under twenty-one, and tolerate Hercules’s smug display of his own blank hands. It doesn’t really matter though, Aaron has never needed a drink to enjoy dancing, and the DJ is good, the crowd large and energetic. They quickly find a group of girls who want to dance, a bunch of friends out for the night just like them. The two groups dance with each other for at least an hour, trying out different partner combinations as the music changes.

They have fun, Aaron subtly making it clear that he’s only here to dance when one of the girls seemed interested in more. She finds a more receptive audience in Hercules, and it’s no surprise when he texts half an hour later to say he’ll see them tomorrow, already heading for the door with her. Alexander gives them a thumbs up from across the club, laughing.

Her friends decide to make a night of it after two more songs, dancing through the crowd on their way to the exit, leaving Alexander and Aaron alone in the midst of the swaying bodies. Unperturbed, Alexander slides into Aaron’s space, and then they’re dancing together.

Aaron has observed over the course of the evening that Alexander is not an especially good dancer, but it doesn’t matter, he’s perfectly willing to follow Aaron’s lead, and better for it. They fit together more easily than Aaron would have thought, falling into a rhythm, an awareness of each other, so quickly it’s like reflex, like the snap of two magnets clicking together, or an arrow hitting home.

Aaron loses himself in it, songs passing in a haze as he moves with Alexander, against Alexander. It’s warm in the club, too many people packed together, to be anything else, and Aaron and Alexander are both sweating. Alexander had started with his hair down, but, at some point, he’d produced a hair band and scraped it up into a sweaty knot. Now strands are starting fall out of the loose bun, sticking damply to his face.  

And maybe Aaron doesn’t know how to dance without ending up here, or maybe it’s the part of Aaron that’s never really stopped wanting Alexander, but Aaron finds himself brushing against Alexander, asking the silent questions you can ask on the dance floor. A hand against a side, the brush of lips against a shoulder, hips against hips. And Alexander answers each questions, yes, yes, yes, pressing himself closer to Aaron with each inquiry.

Aaron is already breathing heavily from dancing for so long, from the temperature of the club, but, as Alexander gets closer and closer, Aaron feels like he might never quite catch his breath again, desire burning the oxygen away faster than he can take it in. A heat that has nothing to do with the warmth of the room is racing under his skin, gathering in his gut. He moves around Alexander, face-to-face, not wanting there to be any misunderstandings here.

Alexander’s eyes are dark, meeting Aaron’s with a wary hunger. Aaron gives into temptation, and brushes one of the strands of sweaty hair off of Alexander’s face, tucking it gently behind his ear. Alexander’s eyes flutter shut briefly, but when they open again, his gaze is still locked on Aaron. Somehow it feels like Aaron and Alexander are connected by an invisible force, every breath of Alexander’s adding to the heat low in Aaron’s stomach.

Alexander moves nearer, and Aaron mirrors him, until Alexander is just resting his forehead against Aaron’s, close enough that their breath is mingling. They are just barely swaying to the music, too distracted by each other to pay attention to the beat, the rest of the crowd spilling around them, dancing, laughing, as unaware of Aaron and Alexander as they are of the crowd.

“Can I?” Alexander asks.

Aaron feels the words, more than hears them in the thrum of the club, and he can only nod, gently rocking Alexander’s head along with his.

And then Alexander is moving closer still, until their lips touch, until Aaron’s mouth opens under his, the heat under Aaron’s skin an inferno now. Alexander’s mouth against his is overwhelming, years of fantasies made real, and yet better, but Aaron can’t kiss Alexander the way he wants to, not here in public. He forces himself to pull away, leaving one last kiss on the corner of Alexander’s mouth, and then shifting up to whisper in Alexander’s ear, “Let’s go home.”

Alexander pulls back to look at Aaron. Alexander’s mouth is wet and his eyes black as he nods.

Aaron doesn’t waste anymore time, taking Alexander’s hand and pulling him along as Aaron weaves through the dancing, laughing crowd, until they burst out of the club entrance. Outside it seems unnaturally quiet, even with the thump of the music through the walls. It seems too bright even though it’s night, the white light of the street lamps a shock after the dim, colored lighting of the club. It seems cold, sweat already cooling unpleasantly against his skin. But Aaron ignores all of that, heading straight for the line of cabs always idling in this area.

They tumble into the back of the first one available and he gives their address. The cabby doesn’t seem to want to make conversation, which is good because Alexander leans into Aaron’s side, breath tickling Aaron’s neck, and, under the cover of darkness, starts to run a hand up the inside of Aaron’s leg. Alexander takes his time, fingers light and teasing, and Aaron shifts uncomfortably, his cock hardening at just the implication of it.

Aaron’s subtle readjustment only seems to motivate Alexander, and he brings his fingers closer and closer to Aaron’s cock, circling around the growing tent in Aaron’s pants, while Aaron, very aware of the cab driver just in front of them, struggles not to make a noise, not to move his hips demandingly, not to grab Alexander's hand and place it where Aaron wants it most.  

Suddenly Alexander seems grow impatient with being subtle, and slides his hand firmly over the bulge in Aaron’s pants. It’s through the thick material of Aaron’s jeans and his underwear, but, god, Alexander’s hand, the sudden pressure - Aaron’s hips jump, and he turns his face, hiding in Alexander’s neck to muffle the noise that wants to escape. Alexander doesn’t stop there, rubbing the length of Aaron through the frustrating barrier of his jeans, until he’s panting in Alexander’s neck, starting to worry that he’s going to come right here, with a middle aged man not three feet away.

Then, just as suddenly as he’s started, Alexander stops, and Aaron raises his head to see that they’re only a couple of blocks from the house. He doesn’t have much time to pull himself together, willing himself back from the edge, while Alexander looks perfectly innocent, now with a polite distance between them. When they arrive, Aaron pulls out some cash, too much, but he can’t even make eye contact with the cabby, much less wait for change.

Alexander’s already on the way in the house, and Aaron chases after him, follows him to Aaron’s own bedroom, where he’s turning on the light. Aaron closes the door behind them, and immediately Alexander is in Aaron’s space, kissing him the way Aaron wanted to kiss him at the club. Aaron pushes him down on the bed, and crawls on top of him, still kissing him, pressing him into the mattress. Alexander goes easily, hands pulling Aaron closer, burrowing under Aaron’s shirt, and then past the waistband of his jeans to feel Aaron’s ass.

Then Alexander is tugging at Aaron’s shirt again, ordering between kisses, “Take this off.” Aaron obediently leans back enough to remove it, and then helps Alexander out of his own shirt. Aaron admires the view, running a hand over the planes of Alexander’s chest, down the line of hair along his stomach until he reaches the button of Alexander’s pants. With Alexander’s eager assistance he removes Alexander’s pants, shoes and socks, and then eases his underwear off as well, leaving Alexander completely naked. He pauses there to admire the sight and Alexander impatiently reaches for Aaron, pulling him back down by his belt loops.

Aaron presses him back into the bed, and goes back to that mouth, too long away from it. Alexander kisses back, moaning, his hips bucking up into Aaron despite the rough fabric of Aaron’s jeans against the sensitive skin of his cock. Aaron shifts, giving him better purchase.

They stay like that for awhile, kissing deeply, while Alexander moves restlessly against Aaron’s thigh, seeking the insufficient friction it offers. Aaron is starting to think he might be able to kiss Alexander forever, but Alexander’s moans are starting to take on a desperate edge, so he pulls back to ask, “What do you want want?”

Alexander takes a couple of deep breaths, “Your hands, I want,” he takes another gasp of air, “I want your hands.”

Aaron has no problem with that, leaning in for another kiss as he grasps Alexander’s cock and starts stroking. Alexander turns out to be as loud in bed as he is in other settings, reacting to Aaron’s ministrations with broken phrases, gasps and moans that all go straight to Aaron’s cock. Aaron is regretting not taking the time to remove his own jeans, uncomfortably hard inside them.

It doesn’t take much longer before Alexander is coming, a broken warning on his lips, “A-Aaron, I’m- I’m- Aaron…” Then he’s spilling over his own stomach, and over Aaron’s hand, head tilted back, and throat temptingly exposed.

Aaron works him through the aftershocks, but as soon as Alexander’s stopped shuddering, Aaron reaches down to unbutton his own jeans, not even caring that he’s smearing Alexander’s come on them as he fumbles with the button. The relief of being free of the jeans, the memory of Alexander’s mouth, his noises, all of it leaves Aaron on the edge within only a few strokes. When Alexander pulls himself together enough to cover Aaron’s hand with his own, barely even touching Aaron’s cock, that’s it, Aaron silently tilts over the edge, adding to the mess already on Alexander’s stomach.

Aaron collapses next to Alexander, watching languidly as Alexander leans over the edge of the bed to collect one of the discarded shirts, and wipe himself off. When he’s finished, he smiles over at Aaron, “You’re still wearing your jeans.”

Aaron looks down, noting the truth of it with some surprise. He wriggles out of them, dumping them, along with his underwear, and socks over the edge of the bed. He slides next to Alexander, kissing him softly, a question.

Alexander kisses him back, and they settle into a long, unhurried, makeout session. Aaron isn’t sure how long it goes on, time seems to have stopped, lost in this hazy moment that could be any one of Aaron’s fantasies from freshman year. However long it goes on, it’s long enough that Aaron starts to feel the heat building again, long enough that he feels Alexander growing hard against his thigh again.

Aaron kisses along Alexander’s jaw, making his way high enough to whisper, “Can I blow you?”

Alexander’s breath hitches, and his cock jumps. Alexander says in an attempt at a dry tone, “That would be acceptable I suppose.” The humor of it is somewhat undercut by the breathiness of his voice, but Aaron smiles anyway.

Aaron reaches over to the bedside table, looking for a condom, but Alexander stops him, “I’m clean.”

Aaron can hear that it’s true, but, “And how do you know I am?”

Alexander rolls his eyes, “Come on, you haven’t been with anyone since- since the summer, and you’re careful about getting checked.”

It’s true, but it makes Aaron feel uncomfortable to think of Alexander being so careless, “You shouldn’t just trust someone that easily.”

Alexander tilts his head, “And you should?”

And since Aaron can’t explain that Alexander couldn’t lie to him, that most people couldn’t, he just gives up, dropping the condom back in the drawer and sliding down Alexander’s body.

Aaron, eases into the actual blowjob, teasing a bit, but when he finally takes Alexander in his mouth, Alexander says feelingly, “Fuck.” He leans up a little to watch, and Aaron willingly puts on a bit of a show.

Alexander doesn’t manages to watch for that long before he’s collapsing back into the pillows, moaning, head tilting back, and hips tilting up. Aaron reaches up, holding his hips steady, but otherwise redoubles his efforts, rewarded by a small rush of bitter liquid as Alexander gets close.

Alexander is hot and heavy in Aaron’s mouth, his mixture of curses and moans loud in the room, the muscles of his stomach trembling under Aaron’s hand. The curses become less coherent, and then Alexander is reaching down to push at Aaron’s shoulder, a clear warning that Aaron choses to ignore. He takes Alexander deeper, and then Alexander’s back arches up as he shakes through his second orgasm of the night, with series of hitching gasps. This one seems to take longer, long, slow pulses in Aaron’s mouth.

Aaron swallows him down, and then slides back up to mouth at Alexander’s neck, his chest, not sure what Alexander’s stance on post-blow job kisses is, but Alexander pulls him up, into a deep kiss, seemingly unbothered by the bitter taste.

Aaron is hard again, his arousal shifting from theoretical to achingly actual during Alexander’s orgasm, and he’s pressing into Alexander’s hip as they kiss. Alexander starts to move down Aaron’s body, clearly on the way to reciprocate, but there’s something hesitant about his expression, and Aaron stops him with a hand on his shoulder, “You don’t have to.”

“I want to,” Alexander says, and it rings of truth. Aaron studies him, trying to unpick the hesitant expression, and the way it conflicts with his words, but gets distracted by Alexander’s mouth, already red and swollen from too much kissing. Aaron traces the shape of it with his thumb, watching Alexander’s face. Aaron has fantasized so much about that mouth, and the idea of those fantasies coming true is almost too much. He presses his thumb into Alexander’s lower lip, and then further, into his mouth. Alexander obliges by sucking it deeper in, tongue swirling over it, holding Aaron’s gaze while he does. Aaron’s breath catches, and he pulls the thumb out slowly, pressing it back into Alexander’s lower lip and then leaving a shiny slick of spit on Alexander’s face as he caresses his cheek.

Alexander watches him with dark eyes the whole time, the hesitation receding. Aaron finally nods, unwilling to refuse this over a fleeting expression, and Alexander makes his way down. Aaron reaches behind himself, arranging the pillows, propping himself up enough to see.

The reason for Alexander’s brief moment of hesitancy becomes almost immediately clear. Alexander’s mouth is everything Aaron had fantasized about, but, despite the clear enthusiasm, Alexander brings to the task, it’s clear he hasn’t done this much. It’s somehow unexpected, and it leaves part of Aaron’s brain trying to figure out how much experience Alexander has with men. All Aaron knows for sure is John and whatever drunken hookups might have happened in the post-Eliza period, and even Alexander might not be able to give clear numbers or activities for those.

The idea of Alexander’s inexperience makes something in Aaron’s chest ache, some protective instinct, a desire to make sure Alexander is comfortable, that this is good for him. Aaron is extra conscientious about holding his hips still, and he reaches down, careful not to give any indication of pushing, running a soothing hand over Alexander’s hair. Aaron doesn’t trust himself to give encouraging feedback with words, no doubt something true but demoralizing like, “That’s adequate,” will pop out, so instead he tries to show appreciation with enthusiastic sounding moans.

It doesn’t matter that Alexander’s technique isn’t polished. It doesn’t even matter that part of Aaron’s mind is initially distracted. Alexander is a quick study, repeating the things that make Aaron groan, and before long Aaron’s losing track of any intentional plan of encouragement, lost to sensation and the growing need to come. He pushes at Alexander’s shoulder, wanting to give plenty of warning, but Alexander doesn’t back off, and Aaron tries again, “Alexander...”

Alexander ignores him again, just applying more suction, and Aaron’s good intentions are lost in his own pleasure. When he opens his eyes Alexander is wiping come off his chin, where he hadn’t quite been coordinated enough to catch it all, but seems satisfied with his own performance.

Aaron pulls him up, kissing that mouth once, twice more, tasting himself there, fingers tangling in Alexander’s hair.

Alexander returns Aaron’s kisses for a moment, but then pulls back and turns off the bedside lamp, snuggling into Aaron’s side. Aside from his summer with Theodosia, Aaron doesn’t really do sleepovers, especially not if the other person’s bed is just downstairs, but he’s too tired to complain, drifting off in a contented haze.

#

In the morning, or, well, when they wake up, they’re suddenly aware of how gross they both are, dancehall sweat mixing with the results of sex, and Alexander suggests they share a shower.

One of the advantages of Aaron’s room is that it connects directly to one of the two bathrooms. It has two doors, the other leads to Lafayette’s room, but they lock that door and have a good time in the shower, although they end up having to do their actual cleaning in a rush when the hot water runs out, Aaron heartlessly abandoning Alexander in the cold water once he’s clean. It’s not his fault that Alexander has to worry about all that hair.

Alexander is still pouting about it when they go to the kitchen to find lunch, but Aaron peppers his hair with kisses until he laughs. Unfortunately, just as Aaron has coaxed the laugh out of Alexander and is dropping one last triumphant kiss on Alexander’s damp hair, still smelling of the shampoo he pilfered from Lafayette, Lafayette himself walks in. He freezes, taking in the intimate picture they make.

Aaron takes a careful step backward from Alexander, and then another toward the plates as he starts to gather the things he needs for peanut butter toast, not up to anything more complicated.

“Hello,” Lafayette says, cautious, “I think I missed something.”

Aaron looks up from the loaf of bread to see Lafayette glancing back and forth between the two of them, and Alexander glaring at Lafayette, trying to convey some message that Aaron can’t and doesn’t want to read.

Aaron turns back to his toast, and finally Lafayette says, “So...are you guys dating now?”

“No,” Aaron says, pushing the toast down.

He turns to see Alexander looking at him, expression unreadable. Alexander quickly looks away, back to Lafayette, “Just having some fun.”

Lafayette nods thoughtfully, “Excuse us,” he says to Aaron, and drags Alexander out of the room.

Aaron doesn’t think about it, instead waiting for the toast to pop up, and carefully spreading the peanut butter on it. He clears a spot on the table, perpetually covered in school books and, this morning, empty beer cans. He starts on his lunch. He’s made it through half a slice when they return, both looking stubborn, but Alexander smiles easily at Aaron, and something in Aaron’s chest relaxes.

Alexander and Lafayette pull together their own lunches, and it’s fine, even if Lafayette watches Aaron and Alexander just a little too closely.

Hercules finally arrives back around dinner time, looking relaxed. He looks less relaxed after Lafayette waylays him for a conversation that Aaron can’t pretend is about anything other than Aaron and Alexander. He ignores the both of them, focusing instead on the weight of Alexander leaning into his side as they watch a movie on the couch. It’s not different than what they would have done yesterday, or a week ago, so Aaron isn’t sure why Hercules emerges from the conversation to openly study them. Or why, when Alexander gets up for a snack, he intercepts Alexander for another tense private conversation.

John, when he’s updated by the local gossip chain, is the only one who wants to talk to Aaron about it, and then only to say in a bitter tone, “Finally got what you wanted, huh?”

Aaron ignores him.

#

What their roommates think doesn’t matter. What matters is that two days later, when Aaron invites Alexander back to his room, Alexander accepts. What matters is that Alexander remains Aaron’s best friend, but now becomes his regular hookup.

Theodosia had taught Aaron the dangers of getting attached, but she’d also taught Aaron the satisfaction of being with someone who he knew well. The pleasure of sex with someone who knows exactly what you like.

And Alexander is a quick study, a dedicated student, and it doesn’t take long for him to know Aaron. It doesn’t take long for him to learn the things that he’s new to, and he’s as generous in the bedroom as he is with his thoughts outside of it.

So it’s good. After the first night, Aaron doesn’t let Alexander sleep over in his bed again, not needing the hassle from their house mates, not needing to get used to the weight of another person against him at nights. Alexander takes this rule with grace, slipping away without complaint, although some nights his kisses linger until Aaron can’t quite remember why the rule exists.

Most of the time though, Aaron remembers only too well the recent pain of losing Theodosia and he has no interest in repeating it. He remembers too how devastated Alexander had been after his relationship with Eliza had ended, and so it’s good that they are both clear on the limits of their arrangement, that outside the fleeting moments of those lingering kisses there’s no confusion.

It’s true that sometimes, when Alexander smiles at Aaron bright and happy, or when the comforting weight of Alexander’s arm over his shoulders grounds Aaron at a party, or when Aaron looks up from his homework to see Alexander lost in his writing, a furrow of concentration between his brows... It’s true that then, sometimes, Aaron begins to wonder what it he really wants, if it would really be so bad to want more. In those moments there’s a dull ache in Aaron’s chest, and he knows that he could never force a denial of his … affection for Alexander past his honest lips.

But they’re just having fun, that’s what Alexander said, and he never pushes for more, seeming content with what they have, happy with just this.

And then too, even if Aaron imagines a world where Alexander _could_ want more from him, that’s still a world where Alexander doesn’t know about the curse, or Aaron’s family, or the limits that shape Aaron’s life. He can’t even imagine the world where Alexander _believes_ those things, much less is willing to look past them.  

So it’s not worth wanting more, and Aaron, always tied to the facts, tries not to let himself imagine things that could never be.

#

Whatever the limits they’ve set themselves, what they do have stays good until just before finals. Aaron’s already spending more time at the library, getting ready for the last push, trying to make up for the time he’s lost this semester to Alexander’s charms.

He’s there by himself one day, lost in chemical formulas, when he hears Alexander’s familiar voice across the room, and looks up, happy as always to see Alexander.

Alexander smiles at him, on his way over to Aaron’s table, but Aaron’s return smile falters when he sees the man walking with Alexander.

Aaron doesn’t recognize him, but there there’s something about the man that unsettles Aaron, and he studies the guy trying to figure out what. He’s tall, with hair that makes him seem even taller, and he’s looking down at Alexander with a smirk. There’s nothing obvious about him that should make Aaron’s spine crawl, but nevertheless the sight of him unsettles Aaron, leaves him braced, although for what Aaron isn’t sure.

When they reach Aaron’s table, and the man turns to Aaron, he does a subtle double-take, and Aaron’s bad feeling increases.

Alexander, oblivious, says, “Aaron, this is Thomas Jefferson. Thomas, Aaron.”

Thomas...that’s Alexander’s new frenemy, some new politics student who transferred in from a French university. Aaron’s never met him, but Alexander has complained at length about Thomas and his terrible opinions, although Aaron is sure that Alexander actually enjoys arguing with Thomas, enjoys the challenge he presents.

Thomas, trails off in a pointed question, “Aaron…?”

Aaron doesn’t answer, watching him warily, but Alexander, used to Aaron’s reticence, used to covering when Aaron struggles with strangers, volunteers, “Burr.”

Thomas’s smirk grows, “Burr. Of the New England Burrs.” It’s not a question, “Your father married Esther Edwards.”

Alexander darts a glance between the two of them, confused.  

And Aaron’s heart sinks. Not just Thomas, but Thomas _Jefferson_. Aaron may not know much of magic, or of that world, but the name Jefferson rings a faint memory, one of his uncle’s many rants. And even without that, Jefferson clearly knows who Aaron is, knows who Aaron’s family is, who his mother was.

And worse, if Jefferson knows magic, he must be able to see Aaron’s problem. If even that hedge witch Aaron visited as a teen could see it on him, the son of a major magical family can no doubt sense what lays on Aaron. Sure enough, Jefferson’s smirk takes on a hard edge, “I see she left you a gift.”

Aaron’s heart is thumping. Not again, he won’t be trapped by this again. Aaron is sure he can see the cruelty in Jefferson’s smirk, and he may not know Jefferson, but he knows _that_ only too well.

Jefferson goes on, “Tell me,” and Aaron can almost hear his uncle’s voice echoing behind it. “Tell me,” Jefferson says, stretching out his arms to show off the garish purple of his sweater, “Do you like my shirt?”

Aaron can feel his opinion, negative, the kind of truth that sounds like insult, pressing against the back of his teeth. He keeps his mouth shut, raises his chin, and glares.

Jefferson laughs.

Alexander puzzled, starts to ask, “What-” but Aaron doesn’t stop to listen, just gathers his things up in an unbalanced stack of textbooks, notebooks, and loose sheets of paper. At least one page of notes gets left behind, but Aaron won’t stay here, won’t listen to Jefferson needle him, or _worse_ watch him tell Alexander, watch him give Alexander that power over Aaron, watch him tear apart the best thing in Aaron’s life. Aaron can’t watch it happen, so he leaves.

Alexander chases after him, holding the loose paper, “Aaron, what’s the matter? Do you know him?”

More questions Aaron doesn’t want to answer. He doesn’t meet Alexander’s eyes, just takes the page, and says, “Go back to Jefferson.” He leaves without looking to see what Alexander does, half expecting his footsteps to follow Aaron, but Aaron exits the library without any more pursuit.   

#

Aaron retreats back to his room. He sits on the bed, shaking slightly. His sheets still smell like Alexander. He stands back up and strips the bed methodically. Laundry, he decides, he’ll do laundry. He washes the sheets, and then the blankets, and finally the bedspread. He washes a load of clothes, including the one sweater that Alexander always borrows, the one that Aaron sometimes accidently on purpose forgets to wash before wearing it himself. Not today.

Aaron collects the handful of hair bands that have accumulated on his bedside table, and scattered over his desk. He throws them away.

Aaron’s just pulled the bedspread out of the dryer, the clean bedding piled on the bare mattress, when Alexander finally knocks at Aaron’s door. He steps inside before waiting for Aaron’s okay, and Aaron feels like a weight is pressing on his chest, making each breath a struggle, as he tries to figure out if that means Alexander knows, knows what sort of control he has over Aaron now.

Alexander observes the bare mattress, before turning to Aaron, “So, I don’t know what happened earlier, but I’m sorry about Thomas. He’s an ass, you _know_ I’ve said it a million times.”

Aaron relaxes slightly, each phrase rings true, true, true. Alexander doesn’t know yet. There’s still time for Aaron to cut this off, end it before he gets trapped.

Alexander is looking at Aaron expectantly, maybe waiting for an explanation on how Jefferson can possibly know the names of Aaron’s parents when Aaron’s never even told Alexander, when Aaron has never said anything about them at all. Maybe he’s waiting for an explanation about why Aaron would flee the library without a word. Alexander probably wants to know any number of things.

Instead, Aaron carefully formulates the words in his mind and says, “We should stop this.”

Alexander’s expression goes blank, “Stop- Stop, what?”

Aaron gestures between them, “You and me.”

“Can I-” Alexander is fighting to hold onto the blank expression, but Aaron can see the hurt underneath, “Can I ask why?”

Aaron mentally arranges his words, “This is headed somewhere I don’t want to go.”

Alexander nods, and they both pretend they don’t notice how his voice shakes when he says, “Right. I- Right.”

Alexander takes a deep breath, blinking a little too fast to sell the calm facade he’s trying to maintain. Aaron gives him the moment, gives him the pretense of not seeing it. That turns out to be a mistake though, because a thought seems to occur to Alexander, “I don’t understand. Everything was _fine_ until today. Until Thomas. Do you two know each other?”

Aaron shakes his head, “We just met.”

Alexander’s intelligent gaze is fixed on Aaron, “But then how-”

Aaron cuts him off, not sure how much longer he can keep this conversation going before he trips over his own tongue and truths he’d rather keep to himself come spilling out, “Alexander. It’s over. Let’s just give each other some space.”

Alexander flinches and takes a step back, but goes on, “Aaron, please.”

The plea leaves Aaron unsteady, and makes his tone sharp and his words blunt, “Alexander. Leave me alone.” It falls like a boulder between them, and Alexander’s eyes fill with tears, no hiding it this time. But he listens, he does, he leaves without saying anything else, without anymore pleas or questions.

It feels like all of Aaron’s energy leaves with him, and he stumbles back to sit heavily on the edge of the bare mattress. He’s too tired to do anything now but fall back into the bed, pulling the clean bedspread over him. He drifts to sleep, aching with the loss of something he didn’t even know he had to lose, buried in a nest of clean, unmade bedding, somehow right back where he started the semester.

#

Aaron expects Alexander to try again, or at the very least try to repair their friendship, but instead Alexander assiduously avoids Aaron, getting up early and leaving before Aaron even emerges from his room, studying late with other people, avoiding the floor of the library where he and Aaron had prefered to work. Alexander knows Aaron well, and he uses that information to cut Aaron from his life with a chilling thoroughness.

Aaron stubbornly doesn’t change his schedule, doesn’t wake up earlier, or pick a new floor to study on, not going to chase after Alexander, or try to manufacture an ‘accidental’ meeting after _he_ was the one to ask for space.

Their other roommates mostly stay out of it, although they were Alexander’s friends first, and Aaron knows their loyalty will always be to him. Lafayette occasionally gives Aaron a look that is more pitying than angry, Hercules avoids the whole topic of Alexander, and John tells Aaron that he’s an asshole. Aaron can’t disagree, and doesn’t.

Time drags on slowly, days seeming long and empty without Alexander’s constant presence. Aaron struggles to remember how he filled his time before Alexander, even though just last year he barely spent any time with Alexander during the fall semester and somehow hadn’t faced the long empty hours that stretch before him now.  

Finals come and go without Aaron seeing Alexander again. Aaron had been planning to stay on campus again this break, he and Alexander already sketching out what they would do with the time, but there’s no way Aaron is staying now. He can’t decide what would be worse, staying and finding out that Alexander had made other plans, or staying, trapped in the house just the two of them. Aaron hadn’t even bothered to ask Sally about her plans this year, but when he calls her now, even with the late notice, she seems excited at the idea of seeing him.

#

Aaron flies into SFO and takes the BART to Berkeley. The warmth of California feels strange after the freezing weather in New Jersey. Stranger still is seeing Sally for the first time in more than four years.

Apparently some part of Aaron had expected her to look the same, a skinny eighteen, in the prim uniform of their Christian high school, but she’s four years older, four years heavier, and she’s wearing something flowy and stereotypically Californian. There’s something else different, something he can’t quite pinpoint, something more than hair, or clothes, more than age or weight.

She scans him too, her mouth tightening in a way that seems disapproving for a half a second, before she pulls him into a warm hug, “Aaron, oh my god.”

He hugs her back, taking what comfort he can, even from this person who used to be his only ally, but now has somehow become a near stranger.

She helps him carry his bags out to a small hatchback, and drives them to an expensive-looking house in the hills over Berkeley. There, she introduces him to four other women of varying ages who apparently also live in the house, offering no explanation for who they are, or how she knows them.

She leads him up to the top floor of the house, to the small room that he’ll be using. It’s not that much bigger than the twin bed inside it, roof sloping over the bed at an angle that means Aaron will have to be careful with how he sits up. Still, it smells of freshly laundered sheets and the wood of the rafters, and the view from its little window is amazing.

Sally lets him inspect the small space, and then says, “Leave your bags here. We’ll get dinner and then you can sleep. I can see that you’re tired.”

Aaron _is_ tired, still on east coast time, exhausted from finals, and wrung out from missing Alexander, so he doesn’t argue.

Dinner is strange, the other women all watch him, seeming to see something fascinating in him that Aaron doesn’t quite understand. He’s too exhausted to figure out what polite questions might let him know who they are or how they’re connected, so he just smiles as nicely as he can when they stare, and tries to answer Sally’s careful non-questions.

After dinner it’s not quite eight, but it’s almost eleven on the east coast and Aaron can feel the travel catching up with him, so he says his good nights. He’s already turning for the stairs, when one of the women, Lucille, an Asian woman anywhere from fifty to eighty years old, impossible to say, stops him with a small hand on his wrist. She tugs him toward her, and he reluctantly allows himself to be pulled, unwilling to insult Sally’s friends. He shoots Sally a questioning look, but she just shrugs. Lucille touches Aaron’s face softly, looking deeply into his eyes. Her hand feels cool on his face. “You need a good night’s sleep,” she says, and he just nods, not sure what else he could do.

She nods back, closes her eyes and moves her hand to the back of his neck, leaving a chill trail where her fingers touch. She holds him there, just for a moment, hand warming against the nape of his neck, and then she opens her eyes and releases him.

It’s strange, but a quick glance around the room reveals that no one else seems to find it so. Aaron lets it go, stuttering out a good night and stumbling up to bed. In the morning, he barely remembers changing into his pajamas, much less laying down, but he feels more rested than he’s felt since the last time he fell asleep with Alexander’s goodnight kiss lingering on his lips.

When he goes downstairs, he’s relieved to see that only Sally seems to be home, dressed in another flowy dress. She points him to a collection of granolas and he finds something that doesn’t seem overly healthful.

Over breakfast he finally asks, gesturing vaguely around the house, “So, how do you know everyone?”

She doesn’t answer, her brow furrowed as if confused, and, confused right back, he asks, “I mean, who are they?”

She sets down her spoon, “You can’t tell?”

He’s puzzled, “Tell? How would I know who they are?”

She reaches out lays the tips of her fingers on his arm, an expression of concern forming after a second of contact.

He jerks back, away from her hand. Californians don’t seem to have a lot of respect for personal space, “What? I don’t understand.”

She purses her lips, an unhappy line lingering between her brows, “I didn’t realize…” She picks up her spoon, but doesn’t use it, just holding it absently, “They’re…not exactly, but I guess you could call them a coven?”

He’s glad he put down his own spoon because his fingers feel numb, “You mean magic.”

She nods, casual, “Right, magic.”

He stands up, “What the hell, Sally?” He takes a step back. He needs to get out of here, suddenly trapped in the very thing he’d just escaped, the very thing he’d cut Alexander out of his life over, “What...”

He doesn’t bother to finish, already turning for the stairs, ready to get his bag and go. He knows Sally had found people when she’d first moved out here, but he’d stopped listening to her magic talk, and after a while, as their conversations became shorter and more strained, it had dried up. He didn’t think much about it, but he’d supposed she’d let it go, focused on school, focused on living a real life, just as he had tried to do.

Sally is suddenly in front of him, blocking his way to the stairs, “Aaron? What’s wrong?” Her face hardens, “Is this about- Are you religious? You never were before.”

Aaron laughs even in the midst of this mess, because, if there’s one thing he likes less than magic, it’s Uncle Timothy’s religion. “No.”

She relaxes slightly, “Then _what_ , Aaron? Don’t you want to know about your family? This is our legacy.”

He just wants to get his things and go, but she’s still in his way. He wraps his arms around himself, the Californian warmth seems to have fled, “Maybe it’s _your_ legacy. But when has magic ever done anything for me? When has it ever done anything but hurt me?”

She shakes her head, tense again, “You can’t believe that.”

Aaron says slowly, deliberately, _honestly_ , “Magic has only hurt me.”

She flinches, “Aaron…”

He takes a deep breath, “Just let me past. Let me go.”

She startles, as if just realizing she’s blocking his path, but doesn’t move, “I will, but just- What about last night?”

Trapped there, he wraps his arms more tightly around his chest, “What about last night?”

“How did you sleep?”

He stares at her, remembering Lucille’s cool touch with a sinking sensation, “She did something to me.”

Sally is pale, but determined, “She _helped_ you. These women help people.”

His skin is crawling, “Without their permission?”

Sally shakes her head, “She asked. She- How were we supposed to know you can’t even _see._ ”

He remembers nodding last night, not knowing he was agreeing to something beyond a bland statement about sleep. He pushes the memory aside, “See?”

Sally nods, eyes bright with unshed tears, “All people with magic can see each other, can see magic to one degree or another, better with training. With your power, even without training you should have been able to see that she was offering a healing, or at least that she was offering _something_ , if not the details.”

“My- Sally, what power? Just-” Aaron doesn’t want to hear any of this, and he gestures impatiently for her to move out of his way.

She finally does, but then she follows him up the stairs, “Aaron, of course you have power. Anyone with the slightest bit of training can see that you have a _lot_ of power, that you could do great things if you wanted, if you had the training.”

He stops on the narrow staircase and turns to her, “Well I don’t want it.”

Sally studies him, looking up from where she’s stopped two steps below him, “Don’t you worry though? Or- I didn’t realize how unaware you are.” She bites her lip, but plows on, expression sincere, “It’s like having a knife and not knowing where the blade is. You could hurt yourself, you could hurt someone else.”

It’s the only argument that could give him pause. Aaron looks at her, wishing he could hear any trace of a lie in her words, “Are you just saying that?”

“No I’m- Aaron, you of all people know what this can do if you make a mistake.”

And he does know, he knows down to his bones, and of course he could never, _ever_ say otherwise. He sits heavily down on the stairs.

Sally cautiously closes the remaining two steps between them, and sits next to him, “I just want to help. You’re my little brother. Timothy may have tried to destroy our family, but I am not going to let him.”

Aaron doesn’t care much about the idea of family legacy, but just the idea of that sort of power lurking in him, that he could be unaware of it, the idea of hurting someone, of shaping their life the way his has been shaped leaves him shaking, “What would I have to do?”

Sally leans one shoulder into him, silent comfort, “Learn the basics. Learn where the blade is at the very least.”

Aaron lets himself lean back into her, shoulders pressing together, and nods, committing himself to a path he never thought he’d walk.  

#

And just like that, Aaron’s winter break becomes a crash course in magical theory. Lucille is in charge of his education, and, under the sweet, mystical grandma mask, she’s a teacher with high expectations for both effort and results.

Before he can do anything else, Aaron apparently needs to learn to reach his magical core, to connect with his magic in a way that most magic users do automatically, slowly growing into an awareness as they become adults. One of the housemates, Genirva, who is both a magical healer and formally trained as a psychologist, says something about trauma, but Aaron doesn’t really care about the why, just what he needs to do now to fix it, to make himself safe to be around.

The training is the kind of thing that would probably make a satisfying montage if set to the right rock song, just hours and hours of Aaron trying to mediate himself whole, but in reality it’s long, boring, and somehow exhausting. Nothing seems to work, not even as each housemate takes a turn trying to describe a feeling that is instinctual to them, coming up with various metaphors, as if the right turn of phrase will somehow give Aaron the insight he’s lacking. It isn’t until two days before he’s supposed to go back to school, tired and sure he’ll never connect, that it finally happens.

Aaron is sitting in the sun, sure that he’s just going to go through life as a unsheathed knife, never knowing who he’s cutting. His mind is wandering, flitting from that worry, to a brief flash of memory of Alexander (his tears the last time they talked, the brash way he’d introduced himself the first time they met, the way he’d fit against Aaron when they danced), to the soft sound of the leaves rustling as a breeze blows through them, when something deep in Aaron’s chest slides into place.

He cautiously opens his eyes, and the world is...so different. There’s a glow around the trees, there’s a different shine around the small animals that Aaron wouldn’t have normally even spotted amidst the leaves, and when he turns to where Sally is nominally supervising him, reading a book in the shade, he sees that she is glowing too, a sparkling light, altogether different from the other two.

He can’t hold the vision for long, but everyone at the house assures him that this is an important first step, and just the beginning of what he’ll be able to do.

Lucille looks at him seriously, “You’ll need to study very hard. Not just this, but many things. Our history too, you are a Burr and you are an Edwards, you have a role in this world.”

Aaron is still not sure that he cares about his family legacy, but there’s no going against Lucille, so he nods.

Lucille turns to Sally, “He needs to train seriously. He needs what you had when you were in school, someone there for him.”

Sally isn’t any more likely to disagree with Lucille than Aaron, and that’s how Aaron finds himself going back to Princeton with his older sister in tow. She manages to find a decent apartment, a two bedroom, and Aaron, although he continues to pay his rent on the house, moves into the second bedroom. It’s more convenient when he’s spending all his free time learning family history, and learning magical theory. More convenient for his meditation practice, more convenient when he’s still frustratingly unable to hold the connection that should be instinctual for more than a few moments, and then only when he’s concentrating deeply.

The convenience of training is the truth Aaron gives to Sally, but there’s also the bonus that moving out of the house means not having to know that Alexander is avoiding him, and not having to see Lafayette’s disappointed expression. And being so busy with magical training on top of school means Aaron hardly has a chance to run into Alexander at all. Aaron sees him once or twice on campus, but Alexander always slips away before Aaron can even decide whether he wants to go over and say hello, or slip away himself.

It works for awhile, but eventually they run into each other, with all the awkwardness that Aaron had feared. When it finally happens, it’s at the grocery store. Sally is wrapping up her shopping in the hippie foods aisle and Aaron, to her Californian disgust, is trying to buy peanut butter that doesn’t have to be refrigerated or vigorously stirred every time he wants a sandwich. They’re supposed to meet at the registers, and Aaron, who had been distracted by the sheer variety of peanut butter options, now suspects she’s waiting on him. He’s rushing, and that’s how, right by a display of pancake mixes, he literally runs into Alexander.

Alexander pales, and jumps back as if Aaron had burned him.

“I’m sorry,” Aaron says.

Alexander looks at him, and then away immediately, as if he can barely stand to look at Aaron.

Aaron wants...he wants a lot of things, “How are you, Alexander?”

Alexander darts another glance at Aaron, and he’s opening his mouth to answer, when a voice calls, “Aaron, come on!”

Sally has gotten in the checkout line, and the clerk is waiting for Aaron to bring the peanut butter over so they can pay.

Aaron takes a step towards Sally, who's staring at him in puzzlement, and then turns back to where Alexander is looking between Sally and Aaron.

Aaron says, again, “I’m sorry,” but Alexander just shakes his head and leaves.

Aaron joins Sally at the checkout, follows her out to her car, and mechanically helps her load the groceries in the trunk.

On the short drive home he stares unseeingly out of the window. He had to run into Alexander eventually. It could have gone better, but it could have gone worse. Aaron just wishes they’d had a chance to say anything, wishes he’d had a chance to hear Alexander’s voice, even if it was just to start an argument, or to tell Aaron what an asshole he’d been.

At the apartment, as they are unpacking the groceries Sally asks, carefully indirect in the way she’s tried to remember to be since their childhood, a kindness that Aaron doesn’t really need anymore, practiced in question avoidance, but appreciates nonetheless, “I wonder who that guy at the grocery store was.”

Aaron ducks behind the refrigerator door, arranging her various yogurts with more care than is really necessary, “Why?”

“I don’t know…” Sally closes a cupboard, “I didn’t get a good look, but it seemed like there was some deeper connection between you two.”

Aaron moves to gather up the empty canvas shopping bags, “We _had_ a connection. Now he doesn’t even want to look at me.”

“Oh,” she looks surprised, “I- Oh.”

Aaron realizes that in between magic lessons they never really stopped to have this conversation. He raises his chin a bit, surely Miss Berkeley can’t have a problem with this, surely this isn’t the one thing she’s saved from their uncle.

“Hey,” she says, “No. Come here,” and she pulls him into a hug, “I’m sorry things didn’t work out with you two.”

He accepts the hug, but doesn’t comment on the condolences, he only has himself to blame.

#

Aaron runs into Alexander once more before the end of the semester. Aaron goes to the house to get the last of his things, half hoping no one will be there, and half hoping Alexander will be home. Alexander _is_ home, everyone else gone, and Aaron can’t decide if that’s wonderful or awful.

Alexander is on the couch, in his pajamas watching a children’s movie, and Aaron wonders if something is wrong, children’s movies being Alexander’s go-to medicine, but what right does Aaron have to ask? Alexander scrambles up when he sees Aaron, as if he might hide in his room, or leave the house entirely, just to avoid Aaron. Aaron doesn’t want to throw Alexander out of his own house, and tries to reassure him, “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be gone in a minute. Just stay where you are.”

Alexander warily relaxes back into the couch, and Aaron goes to his room to pack up as quickly as he can. He doesn’t have that much stuff left there, just enough to necessitate two trips to the car.

Aaron pauses on the way out with the second and final load, bedding mostly. Alexander is still on the couch, still wary, “I’m sorry about the way things turned out,” Aaron says.

Alexander seems to struggle with what to say, finally landing on, “Was that Theodosia?”

Aaron is lost, “Who?”

Alexander rolls his eyes, “The woman at the grocery store.”

The woman at the- “That was my sister, Sally.”

There’s a moment where Alexander just looks hurt, then he laughs, “Sister. You have a _sister_.” He laughs again, no happiness in the sound.

Aaron opens his mouth to say, ‘of course,’ but there’s no of course about it. He never even told Alexander that much, and he closes his mouth, ashamed.

Alexander’s bitter laughter trails off, and his gaze is like a weight on Aaron, “You’ve just disappeared.”

“I’m-”

“Don’t tell me you’re sorry again,” Alexander interrupts, “Just- you’re okay, right?”

Aaron nods, heart aching at the idea that Alexander even cares enough to ask.

Alexander nods in return, dark eyes still curious, “Can you tell me why you’ve disappeared?”

Aaron doesn’t say anything, and Alexander smiles that bitter smile again, and says, “Even Thomas wants to know where my ‘friend with the curse’ went.”

Aaron’s not sure if the mention of Jefferson is supposed to be a jab, but he’s spent too long in the last few months learning about his family’s legacy and about his mother to take that easily. “I’m not _cursed_ ,” he snaps, before he remembers that he shouldn’t care, should be confused or amused by the mention of something as absurd as a curse.

Alexander looks blank, and Aaron doesn’t stick around to see what expression will follow that blankness. Instead, he says, “I’m sorry. Have a good summer,” takes his bag of bedding and leaves.

Aaron doesn’t run into anyone else he knows in the few days before he and Sally fly back to California for an intensive summer of magical training.

#

Even with the progress he’s made, that summer’s training is an all day, everyday, sort of project. It’s a full month into the break before Lucille is happy with Aaron’s basic control, “Now we learn who _you_ are,” she says in that mysterious, yet strict way of hers.

Naturally this seems to involves more meditation, more mental exercises, this time with Lucille and a rotating round of the other women observing, watching for something that Aaron can’t see in himself. After two grueling days, Lucille calls a halt, “We’ll eat, and we’ll discuss.”

It’s not until they’ve finished their vegan casserole that Lucille says, “Your magic is strong, and unusual.”

Aaron doesn’t like the sound of that, but he’s learned that when it comes to Lucille there’s no point in trying to hurry her along, she reveals things at her own pace, so he waits.

She sketches a vague hand gesture, “All your magic is tied in the gift your mother gave you.”

Aaron feels tired, the two days of meditation and concentration suddenly laying heavily on him. Of course.

Lucille continues, “You must tell the truth, but you can also _make_ the truth.”

Aaron doesn’t understand, “How so?”

Lucille gestures at Sally imperiously, “Sally, stand for a moment.”

Sally does, looking a little wary.

Lucille says, “Now, whatever Aaron tells you to do, don’t do it. Understand?”

Sally nods.

Lucille leans over to whisper in Aaron’s ear, “Now, tell her to jump three times. But you must mean it.”

Aaron leans back to look at her, unsure, but she just gestures for him to get on with it. He turns to Sally, uncomfortable with the idea of trying to _make_ her do anything, but she smiles at him, “Come on, Aaron, you aren’t going to hurt me.”

He gnaws on his lower lip, but finally nods, takes a moment to center himself, gather his intent in the way he’s learned, and says, “Sally, jump three times.”

The words feel heavy in his mouth, tripping from his lips with a thud. He can just, with his new perception, sense them landing on Sally, that weight coming to rest on her will, and, although she clearly tries to resist, she hops in place, once, twice, three times and then stops. Her eyes are wide as she stares at Aaron.

Aaron puts a shaky hand over his mouth, this isn’t something he wants, this isn’t something anyone should have.

Lucille places a comforting hand on his shoulder, “It’s good that you’ve undertaken this training, that isn’t a power to be unguarded.”

#

Most of the rest of the summer Aaron spends learning the fine points of how to control that power, how to make things happen, and how to undo the things he’s made. In the breaks, Sally teaches him both small magical party tricks, good for practicing a precision that Aaron finds difficult, and more of their family history.

Aaron slowly comes around to caring about that history. He needs the knowledge when, in August, the family meets, less a reunion and more a board meeting. They vote to reinstate Sally as head of the family, Timothy disowned, and the cousin who had been acting as defacto leader ceding her position to Sally’s rightful claim. This leaves Aaron as the second in line for leadership of the family, a position he hopes to never fill, but makes him unable to ignore his history. He meets person after person, cousins by blood and marriage, some with familiar features, all observing him, weighing his worth as their potential leader.  

All in all, when Aaron goes back for his senior year of college, moving back into the apartment he and Sally had rented last year, he’s more aware of who he is, of what he can do, and of his responsibilities than he’s ever been before.

Aaron is juggling a senior thesis, magical exercises, and the ongoing study of his family history and of his duties. It all keeps him busy, too busy for missing Alexander, or the casual companionship of having roommates always around.

Aaron takes up studying in a little coffee shop just down the block from his apartment, closer than the library, and less likely to mean running into anyone he’d rather avoid. It starts to feel like his place, starts to feel comfortable, until one day Alexander walks in, ruining the illusion of distance.

At least Aaron is wedged in the back of the coffee shop. It means that Alexander doesn’t see him as he places an order and grabs a table. It means that Aaron feels safe from detection, safe to observe Alexander freely for the first time in months.

Alexander is with a women that Aaron doesn’t know. They’re smiling at each other, chatting, and Aaron gradually realizes that it’s a date. That idea might otherwise tear at Aaron, but it quickly becomes a secondary concern.

Because...there’s magic clinging to Alexander. Aaron’s magic. It’s subtle, twisted deep in Alexander’s essence, and another magic user might not see it, but Aaron has been training all summer to recognize his own mistakes, and to him it’s as clear as daylight.

Aaron centers himself, focuses his magical vision, trying to inspect it from across the room, trying to figure out what it is. Identifying something that deeply buried is difficult across a crowded room, but Aaron manages it. And it’s-

He loses his focus, shocked.

Heart pounding, mind racing, Aaron reevaluates the past year. Because the magic’s purpose is to make Alexander avoid Aaron, to keep him from wanting to even be near Aaron. Memories of that last night assail Aaron, how he’d told Alexander to stay away, and the way Alexander had fled immediately, not even trying to get the final word. So unlike him.

Aaron remembers how Alexander had worked to avoid Aaron on campus, the way he had tried to immediately leave the two times they’d run into each other. Aaron had thought Alexander must hate him, but _Aaron_ had done that. Aaron had made Alexander hate him, hate the idea of being around him, and Aaron has hurt the person who least deserves it, who has been kindest to him, all because he was scared and ignorant.

Aaron can’t help but wonder what it felt like to Alexander, if he’d noticed a sudden shift in his feelings, or if he’d been angry enough that it seemed like a natural progression. Alexander couldn’t have known that Aaron had done this, was capable of doing this, he must have thought it was his own desire to avoid Aaron.

The worst isn’t even Alexander hating him, it’s the knowledge that Aaron took away his choices, stifled his will in the very way that Aaron knows to be unbearable. And if he’s done this, Aaron has to wonder, how many other people have Aaron’s words laid on them?

Aaron can’t fix that, not now, but he can fix this. His summer of training has left him confident of his ability to undo this knot of magic, and there’s no point in wasting time, in leaving Alexander bound for a minute longer than he has to. Aaron takes a deep breath, and then another until they come steady instead of shaky, then he sends his focus over to pick the binding apart. It would be easier if he was close, easier still if he could touch, but it’s better if Alexander doesn’t see him, if he doesn’t have to deal with Aaron after what Aaron’s done.

It takes nearly ten minutes, ten minutes of Alexander and the woman laughing together, ten minutes of Aaron trying to focus, trying not to get caught in his own guilt, but finally he manages to break the knot of magic around Alexander, whispering a command from across the room.

Alexander had been in the middle of a story that involved extravagant gestures, but as soon as the magic breaks he stops. His posture subtly straightens, as if he’d been carrying a weight that’s just lifted, and then, even though Aaron is _sure_ Alexander hadn’t seen him, didn’t know he was here, Alexander turns in his chair, scanning the room until he spots Aaron. He holds Aaron’s gaze for a long moment, then shifts back to the woman who looks confused.

Aaron swallows, watching them together, looking at Alexander, as handsome as ever, same beautiful smile, now framed by new facial hair. It looks good on him, but Aaron forces himself to look away, back to his books as if he could absorb anything, but better to pretend to study than to get up and have to walk past Alexander and his date.

Aaron is staring unseeingly at the same page, trying to decide how long he should wait before turning it, when Alexander sits across from him at the small table, “Aaron.”

Aaron looks up, startled, unable to answer, mouth dry at the sight of Alexander sitting right here after all this time. Aaron sees things differently after months of magical training and, if he thought Alexander was beautiful before, it’s nothing compared to the way he shines now. Everyone has their own light, but Alexander is like a sun, golden and warm.

Beyond that warm light, he’s glaring at Aaron, clearly angry. Over his shoulder, Aaron can see that the woman he was sitting with has disappeared. “Why?” Alexander says.

“Why?” Aaron repeats, confused.

Alexander’s glare intensifies, “ _Why_ did you do that to me?”

And he must mean- Aaron’s heart drops, “You knew?”

Alexander scoffs, “I’m not stupid, Aaron. When all of the sudden I can’t even talk to you, no matter how I try, who else would do that?”

Aaron drops his gaze, “Most people wouldn’t think what you’re describing is even possible.”

Alexander leans back in his chair, “So what? You thought you could get away with it? My mother was from the islands, Aaron. She believed in a lot of things that I didn’t think much about until suddenly I couldn’t even make myself be in the same room as you. You kind of give yourself away when you talk about curses.”

Aaron nods, still not looking at him.

There’s a pause, and then Alexander leans in again, trying to catch Aaron’s eye, “So what? You were tired of me? You thought I just wouldn’t notice? And, now...why? Why change your mind now?”

Aaron swallows, trying to think how to explain.

It takes too long for Alexander, “You can’t _do_ that to someone, Aaron. I can’t believe I-”

He’s starting to get up, about to leave, and Aaron can’t stand it, “I didn’t know.”

Alexander pauses, “What?”

“I didn’t know I did it. I only saw what happened when you came in here today,” Aaron looks up, pleading, “I’m sorry, I would never- I didn’t mean to.”

Alexander studies him, and then slowly leans back in the chair, defensive, but no longer on the edge of leaving, “I’m supposed to believe you accidently...what? Cast a fucking spell on me?”

Aaron takes a deep breath, “I’m not going to say what you should believe, but it’s true. I didn’t even know I had this power until last Christmas, after… After. I didn’t really learn how to do any of the basics until this summer, and this is the first I’ve seen you since.”  

Alexander crosses his arms, “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why wouldn’t you know,” Alexander looks unconvinced, “ _Thomas_ knew who you were. Thomas who casually talks about curses, who knew your whole family tree. It’s the information age, Aaron. You couldn’t stop me from googling.  Everything is out there if you’re persistent. The Edwards family is one of the biggest magical families in the States. You had to know.”

Aaron shakes his head. He’s giving away so much leverage, but he owes Alexander anything, everything, “Both my parents died within weeks of my birth. Sally and I went to my grandparents, but they both died before I was five.”

He takes a deep breath, “So then we went to my uncle Timothy. My mother’s younger brother. He didn’t care for magic, born without. He and his wife raised us in a very conservative, very religious community. For him, magic was the devil.”

Alexander is still watching, expression unreadable, but Aaron plunges on, “I didn’t receive any basic training, and...I didn’t develop any of the skills that usually develop. Like a child raised without language, I just never picked it up.”

“When I visited Sally at Christmas she found out how little I knew, and she insisted that I needed training in case I accidentally hurt someone. And she was right.”

He forces himself to make eye contact with Alexander, “When I thought Jefferson would tell you what I was, I pushed you away. I hurt you. I’m sorry,” he says again.

Alexander doesn't respond. Aaron looks away, “So I spent the last nine months learning what I should have learned over a lifetime. And here we are.”

Alexander doesn’t say anything for a long moment, arms still crossed defensively. Finally he says, “That’s the most I’ve ever heard you say at one time about yourself.”

Aaron watches him warily.

Alexander uncrosses his arms, “It wasn’t just- I didn’t even know you had a sister, Aaron.”

Aaron doesn’t know what else to say, but, “I’m sorry.”

Alexander runs a hand over his hair, “I need to think. I need… Can we meet back here in a week?”

Aaron can’t believe he’s even being given that much of a chance, “Yes.”

Alexander nods, and stands. He says, “I’ll see you in a week,” and then he’s gone.

Aaron stares after him for an embarrassingly long time. When he finally can focus on the world around him again, one of the other customers, thankfully out of hearing distance, is looking at him with pity. Heat rises in his face, and he gathers his things and flees.

#

The week passes slowly, Aaron tries to focus on his classes, on staying centered, but all he can think about is what he did to Alexander, and that Alexander _knew_ it. Alexander was so unfazed by the magic part of the story, that Aaron can’t help but wondering what would have happened if he’d reacted calmly to Jefferson, if Aaron had just told the truth. But of course, Aaron hadn’t done that, probably couldn’t have done that, and now it’s too late. Part of Aaron is convinced that Alexander actually showing up at the end of the week is a distant fantasy, but at least Aaron had the chance to free Alexander from that binding, he’d done that much right.

The day finally arrives, following a long night where Aaron hadn’t managed to sleep much at all. They hadn’t discussed when exactly to meet, and Aaron is too nervous to text Alexander, not wanting to push in any way. Aaron’s best guess is that Alexander wants to meet at the same time as their last meeting, but after that run-in Aaron hadn’t been in a state to note a little thing like the time, and he doesn’t really know when that might be. Aaron’s solution is to just show up as soon as he can after class. He knows he’d been in the coffee shop for a while before Alexander had come in with his date last week, but it seems the safest solution since the last thing he wants to do is stand Alexander up.  

Aaron sits with his books, no more able to study this week than he had been last week, but idly turning pages at random intervals. Every time the door opens Aaron looks up, heart beating faster, so when Alexander finally does arrive, Aaron knows right away.

Alexander’s eyes go straight to Aaron, and he nods slightly, before going to the counter to get a drink. Aaron to tries to gather himself before Alexander comes over, but his heart is pounding, and his hands shake slightly as he rearranges his books, clearing half the table.

When Alexander finally makes it over, drink in hand, Aaron has probably arranged and rearranged the books four times, and he can feel the back of his shirt sticking slightly with nervous sweat.

Alexander sits across from Aaron, and Aaron offers a weak, “Hi.”

Alexander just nods, studying Aaron, while Aaron’s gaze flicks to his face and away, not sure if he has the right to stare back at Alexander. It’s difficult to look away, because all Aaron wants to do is remind himself of the details of Alexander’s face, the shape of his eyes, the curve of his lip, the little line between his eyebrows that means he’s uncomfortable.

All Aaron wants to do is take in the things that have changed since he was last allowed to look, the goatee, the glow that Aaron’s new vision allows him to see, a shirt that Aaron doesn’t recognize. Aaron’s breath feels short, the longing in his chest pushing against his lungs, all the hopeless wanting that Aaron has been trying to ignore, brought to the surface by Alexander right there, so close.

Finally, Alexander says, “Where are you living this year?” as if they were two acquaintances, two friends with nothing of note between them, just catching up after the summer.  

Aaron blinks, and forces himself to answer, not sure if the casualness of the conversation is a relief or a blow, “I have an apartment, just up this block actually.”

Alexander nods. He takes a sip of his coffee, “We’re still at the house. Ricky moved in, so we can still afford it.”

Aaron feels a sudden guilt, but just says, “That’s good.”

Another silence opens, and then Alexander asks Aaron about his classes, and from there they stumble on, nothing in the conversation to indicate how Aaron had hurt Alexander, or the hours they had spent in bed with one another, they way they had spent most of their waking hours together. Nothing to show that Alexander had been Aaron’s best friend until Aaron had torn it all down.

Finally, when Alexander’s coffee is gone, and they’ve run out of careful, polite, distant things to say to one another, Alexander takes a deep breath and looks at Aaron, determined. It seems somehow as if this is what he’s really been wanting to ask, “Did you miss me?”

And Aaron feel frozen, trapped in that gaze, but he can’t let this moment slip away, so he says, “So much.” His voice cracks and his face feels warm, but he doesn’t look away from Alexander, “I missed you every day.”

Alexander’s face does something complicated that Aaron can’t read, but he just says, “Can you meet again next week?”

And Aaron would cancel anything to see Alexander again, so he nods without thinking.

They meet the next week, and then again, careful conversations once a week where they slowly get to know each other again, where Aaron follows Alexander's lead, being as open as he knows how. Gradually, despite a lingering awkwardness, they get to a place where they can talk about the past, reminiscing about their trip to New York, arguing over which local bookstore is the best, and laughing over Lafayette’s various attempts at American cooking.

If Alexander wants to be friends, if that’s what Alexander is offering, Aaron will take it and be grateful. Maybe someday Alexander will tell him about the woman he was on a date with, maybe that was just one of a series of dates, maybe they’ll fall in love and get married, and Aaron will be happy for him, happy to see Alexander with someone who never hurt him, who never reached inside and stole his choices away. Aaron will be grateful.

In his waking life Aaron mostly manages to stick to that resolve, but his sleeping mind is not so easily controlled, and sometimes at night he dreams of Alexander. Of Alexander as they used to be, of his hands, of his mouth, of the noises he made when he came. On these nights Aaron wakes, achingly hard, and can’t resist taking himself in hand, coming in a few desperate strokes. After, he feels guilty, angry with himself for wanting more than he should have.  

#

They meet every Wednesday without fail, at the same time and same place, until the week before Thanksgiving. That week, although Aaron waits and waits, and although Alexander has always been prompt before, Alexander doesn’t show up. Aaron debates texting, opening and closing a new message to Alexander, but they still haven’t talked outside of this coffee shop, not even a text, and Aaron doesn’t want to cross any lines, doesn’t want to assume anything.

Maybe Alexander has gotten what he needed from Aaron, maybe he got distracted, maybe he’s already left for some sort of Thanksgiving trip. Aaron finally gathers his books and leaves when the barista’s glances have gone from sympathetic to annoyed as she pointedly wipes down tables and stacks chairs.

At home, Aaron sleeps fitfully, not sure if he should be worried or just sad.

The next day he’s on his way to his noon class, internally debating whether it would be too stalkery to swing by where he knows Alexander has a class, not to talk to him, just to make sure he’s okay, when Aaron’s phone rings.

It’s Lafayette. Lafayette who hasn’t called or texted Aaron since he moved out. Aaron’s heart skips a beat, and he answers with a shaking voice, “Hello.”

“Aaron,” Lafayette’s serious tone does nothing to reduce Aaron’s anxiety. Neither does the way he rushes right into the next thing without any niceties, “Look, can you come by the house now?”

“I- Is Alexander okay?”

Lafayette sounds suspicious, “Why do you ask that?”

Aaron is suddenly unsure if Alexander has told his roommates about seeing Aaron, “I, uh, I was supposed to meet him yesterday and he didn’t show.”

There’s silence on the line, a silence that makes Aaron suspect that Alexander has _not_ mentioned his meetings with Aaron, and then Lafayette says simply, “No.”  

Aaron’s been standing in the middle of the sidewalk, stopped where he was when the phone rang, annoying the people who have to detour around him, but now he turns against the tide of the crowd, heading toward the house, class forgotten, “What’s wrong?”

“I...don’t know exactly, but he says you can help.”

“Okay.”

They hang up, and Aaron puts all his attention on making his way to the house as fast as possible. When he gets there, sweaty under his coat, John is the one that answers the door.

He’s glaring at Aaron, but Aaron doesn’t have time for posturing, “What happened? What’s wrong?”

John folds his arms, “What I want to know is, what do you have to do with it?”

Aaron forces himself not to just push past John, “How can I know that if I don’t even know what happened?”

John looks at Aaron for another beat, and then still scowling says, “He hasn’t been able to sleep for four days now.”

Aaron’s mind is blank, what does that have to do with him? And how long can a person go without sleep?

John isn’t done, “At first we didn’t think much about it, and I don’t think he did either. You know how he is about sleep.”

Aaron nods once, all too familiar with finding Alexander working on a paper in the middle of the night, reading a book long after everyone else has gone to bed.

“But then he just kept not sleeping. And after a couple of days it started making him sick, headaches, not able to focus. Now he’s a mess.” John looks away, jaw clenching, “I want to take him to the hospital, but he says no. He says that somehow you’ll know how to fix it and I got out voted.”

John seems to be waiting for something, and Aaron forces himself to be still.

When Aaron doesn’t offer anything, John says, “Now we find out he’s been seeing you behind our backs, after what happened last time? What is it, drugs?”

“Jesus,” Aaron says, disgusted and out of patience. He pushes past John, into the house, to Alexander’s room.

Hercules is hovering in the doorway, but doesn’t stop Aaron from entering. Lafayette is sitting on the edge of Alexander’s bed, talking softly with him, and he looks up when Aaron comes in.

Aaron freezes, instantly seeing why Alexander thought Aaron could help. To Aaron’s magical sight there’s a sickly, foul thing clinging to Alexander, clawing at his temples, lighting his eyes with a terrible buzzing neon, keeping him awake.

Aaron drops his backpack carelessly by the door, and shrugs out of his coat, letting it fall there too. Lafayette stands, saying something to Aaron that Aaron completely misses.

Even aside from the ugly magic clinging to him, Alexander looks terrible. He’s paler than Aaron’s ever seen him, making the dark circles under his eyes stand out starkly. His hair is greasy, and there’s a slight sheen of sweat on his skin. He pushes himself up on his elbows when he sees Aaron, and it’s slow and painful.

“Alexander,” Aaron says brokenly, sitting on the edge of the bed, “You could have called me sooner.”

“I didn’t realize,” Alexander’s voice is no more than a rough whisper, and this close Aaron can see that fine tremors are running through his body. Aaron’s not sure if Alexander means he didn’t realize this was magic, or if he didn’t realize that Aaron would always help him, would always drop everything if he was needed, but it doesn’t seem worth asking right now.

Instead, Aaron says, “Can I?” already reaching for Alexander, but pausing before touching him.

Alexander nods slightly, and Aaron places one hand on either side of Alexander’s head, cupping his neck gently.

Healing isn’t Aaron’s strength, but he can just see how this clings to Alexander, perhaps aided by how well Aaron knows Alexander. Beyond that, Aaron may not have the finesse of a practiced healer, but he has power to spare. He takes a moment, centers himself, fingers pressed into the worst knots of nauseating light, and says, with all his force behind it, “Sleep until you’re rested.”

The thing clinging to Alexander is no match for the power behind Aaron’s words, and it melts away, its sickly light fading. Alexander sighs, the lines on his face smoothing out as the light dims. He reaches up to touch the back of Aaron’s hand where it’s still cupping his neck, and then his eyes slip shut, tension leaving his body, as he drifts softly to sleep.

As Alexander falls asleep, he goes limp, no longer propping himself up, and Aaron is left supporting him, making sure he doesn’t just collapse backward, guiding him down into the pillows gently. Once Alexander is settled, Aaron pulls the covers up, scanning Alexander with his magical sight to make sure that none of the curse remains, and that Aaron hasn’t accidently put him in some sort of Sleeping Beauty slumber, but Alexander is sleeping normally, if deeply.

“So what?”

Aaron twists around sharply, somehow having managed to forget that the others are still in the room. They’re watching Aaron warily, John most of all, “You just come in here, say ‘go to sleep’ and he does? After four days?”

Aaron stands, leaving Alexander sleeping peacefully, and moves back to where he dropped his coat. He wants to stay, to make sure Alexander sleeps well, but he can see that’s not going to be an option. However neither can he just leave Alexander totally unprotected, not when someone out there did that to Alexander, had tried to hurt him, or...worse? Aaron’s not sure what the person who laid the magic hoped to achieve, but a human being can’t survive indefinitely without sleep, and Alexander’s friends should be aware.

Aaron goes for bluntly honest, “Someone cursed him. I took the curse off.”

John scoffs, Lafayette just looks confused, and Hercules has the thoughtful look of someone who is reevaluating his grandmother’s stories.

“Magic?” John is unsatisfied, “That’s your answer.”

Aaron picks up his coat and backpack, in one hand, and raises his other hand, palm up. It’s a stupid trick, useless in most circumstances, especially with cellphone flashlights everywhere, but Sally had said every magic user should have at least one way to show off, and insisted he learn. It was good for practicing precision anyway.  

Aaron concentrates, sure for a moment it won’t happen in his currently drained condition, but, after a slight hesitation, a light fills his palm. It’s the glowing silver that represents his magic, and looking at it somehow makes non-magical explanations seem hollow. Aaron holds it just long enough that John’s mouth shuts with an audible noise, long enough that Lafayette takes one cautious step back, and Hercules one curious step forward, and then Aaron lets the light flicker out.

He tries not to show how much that little display drained him, so soon after putting everything into breaking the curse on Alexander, and says, “ _That’s_ my answer.”

Still holding his coat, but too tired to wrangle it on, he says, “Look, someone did that to him. Someone wanted to hurt him, so you guys need to look out for him.”

They exchange glances, and Hercules says, “How are we supposed to do that? We didn’t even know you could like...magically attack someone until just now.”

Exhausted, Aaron lowers his backpack to the ground, still holding the strap, “Well, do you know who might have it out for Alexander?”

They exchange glances again, Lafayette answers this time, “I mean, lots of people don’t like Alexander, but I don’t know how many don’t like him on a cursing level.”

Aaron says, “Well...maybe just don’t leave him alone for now, and call me if anything strange happens?”

Hercules steps forward again, “Come on man, you’re about to fall over.” John shoots Aaron an assessing look, and Aaron tries to straighten his posture, hating being so transparent. Hercules continues, “Just crash on the couch, and we’ll figure this shit out from there.”

Aaron opens his mouth to argue, before realizing this is exactly what he wants, and tiredly nodding.

It’s not even one o’clock, and Aaron is missing class, maybe a pop quiz. He shuffles out to the couch - the same beat up thing that he and Alexander had spent hours on, watching tv, studying, reading - and sinks into its soft cushions. He watches the rest of them hazily, as they negotiate what happens next, finally deciding that John should go to his next class, and Hercules to work, while Lafayette stays at the house.

Aaron stubbornly stays upright until John leaves, and only then lets himself tilt sidewise, pulling his coat over himself as a makeshift blanket. He’s almost asleep when something lands on him, startling him awake again, and he realizes that Lafayette has given him an actual blanket. He mumbles a thank you, tugs it over himself and falls asleep within minutes.

#

Aaron wakes up around four, feeling less drained. He wraps the blanket around himself, and pads softly to Alexander’s room, stopping at the doorway, close enough to see that Alexander is still sleeping peacefully. Aaron leans against the doorframe, watching Alexander’s steady breathing, until John, who must have returned from class, says from behind Aaron, “I don’t understand why you broke up with him. Not when you look at him like that.”

Aaron doesn’t really understand either, so he doesn’t say anything.

#

Later, the group decides Aaron should stay overnight, “Just in case,” Lafayette says. It’s probably not necessary, but they’ve just discovered the world doesn’t work as they’ve been taught, and Aaron can’t stand the idea of leaving Alexander vulnerable, so he stays.

He calls Sally after dinner, and she sounds grave when she says, “That’s not nothing, Aaron,” and promises to call back in the morning after consulting with Lucille.

As the day tips into night, and Alexander is still sleeping, breath even and steady, Aaron makes his way into Alexander’s room in search of something other than jeans to sleep in. Aaron opens the drawer where Alexander keeps his sleep clothes, feeling guilty about it, but given how tall Hercules and Lafayette are, Aaron’s only other potential lenders would be John (no thank you) or Ricky, who Aaron barely knows. He rifles through, pulling out familiar sweatpants and...that’s Aaron’s sweatshirt, peeking out from under a stack of other shirts. Aaron pushes them aside, uncovering the familiar logo. It’s unmistakably his, proudly proclaiming the owner a member of the engineering department, and the sight of it leaves Aaron confused.

Aaron had realized he’d lost the thing when he moved out, even assumed Alexander must have it, but at some point in all that time trapped by Aaron’s words Aaron assumed Alexander would have thrown it out, maybe burned it if he was feeling dramatic. But here it is, carefully folded in among Alexander’s other clothes. Aaron picks it up, soft and familiar in his hand, surely it should be all right to borrow his own clothing?

Aaron sleeps on the couch. Perhaps because of the unfamiliar environment, or because of the nap he had earlier, or because of his lingering worry, he doesn’t sleep very well, waking periodically with nightmares, terrors of not being able to break the curse, and Alexander getting sicker and sicker with lack of sleep until-

Aaron reassures himself that these are only dreams by peeking in on Alexander periodically, making sure he’s still peaceful, still alive. At four, Aaron notes with a touch of relief, that Alexander must have woken at some point, because the glass of water Aaron left by his bedside is empty. Aaron tiptoes in and replaces it with a fresh one, forcing himself to do no more than glance at where Alexander is now curled on his side.  

Aaron finally gives up on trying to sleep around seven, instead emailing a classmate for notes from yesterday, and letting his professors know that he won’t make his classes today.

When the other roommates wake up together, they decide that Aaron can stay, while Lafayette and Ricky go to class, and John and Hercules to work. Ricky, who hadn’t been home for any of Aaron’s magical displays, seems wary of the whole situation, as if there’s a chance this all some big prank or a shared delusion, but Aaron doesn’t care enough to reassure him.

Aaron has the house to himself until Alexander finally wakes a little after ten, stumbling out to where Aaron is still on the couch, reading through the lecture notes his classmate sent him. Alexander blinks blurrily at Aaron for a long moment, but, before Aaron can think what to say, disappears back down the hall. Moments later the shower starts up.

Aaron sits very still for an extended moment, before letting out a long breath of relief. He’s just thinking about his next move when his phone rings, Sally calling with her promised follow-up.

Aaron has just wrapped up a low-voiced conversation with Sally when Alexander emerges again. This time Alexander says, in a voice husky with lack of use, “Hello.”

“Hello,” Aaron replies, drinking in the sight of Alexander awake and alert. He’s washed his hair but not brushed it, and it falls in damp clumps around his face. He hasn’t shaved in some time, stubble and untrimmed beard making him look scruffy. He’s still too pale, circles under his eyes not quite vanquished, and he’s wearing the thick rimmed glasses that Aaron likes, but Alexander hates.

To Aaron, he’s beautiful. After the fear of last night, after what Sally just told Aaron on the phone, seeing Alexander alive and awake is one of the best sights Aaron could ever hope for, and it takes him a long moment before he gathers himself to say, “Are you hungry?”

Alexander frowns, “Not really, but I should be, shouldn’t I?”

Aaron stands, “It’s been like a day at least, your stomach is probably confused.”

He goes to the kitchen, Alexander following, still looking a little bleary. Alexander slumps in a kitchen chair while Aaron pulls together a breakfast of dry toast and tea, “Try this.”

Alexander looks a little queasy at the idea, but determinedly chews his way through the first piece of toast. By the second piece, his stomach seems to have settled, and it disappears without delay. After, when he’s finished not only the toast but a second mug of tea, he looks at Aaron, seeming more focused. His eyes drift down, taking in the sweatshirt, and he flushes slightly, but doesn’t mention it. Instead he says, “Thank you.”

Aaron brushes that aside with a gesture, not sure if he’s being thanked for his magical intervention or his breakfast making skills, but now that Alexander is processing things again, Aaron’s concerned with larger issues, “Alexander, do you know who might have done this?”

Alexander chews on his lower lip, “No. I mean...I don’t always agree with people, but this?”

Aaron nods, but presses, “Jefferson?”

Alexander laughs, “Come on. He’s a dick, but no way.”

Aaron isn’t so sure, but he just nods again, “Okay. But, look, I talked to Sally about this, and she says… she says that if you hadn’t identified it as magic you could have died.”

Alexander flinches.

Aaron resists the urge to reach out, to place a comforting hand over his. It’s not Aaron’s place anymore, “What are you doing for Thanksgiving?”

Alexander blinks at the sudden change of topic, but says, “Uh, I think going into the city with Hercules’s family.”

“Okay,” Aaron says, “I think we have to assume that whoever did this will try again, and...I wanted you to know that Sally and I can offer you the protection of the family. If you wanted. We could meet you in the city. That’s fine.”

Alexander is watching him with dark eyes, “What does that mean?”

Aaron looks down at his own hands on the table, “You know my family is important in magical circles.” It’s embarrassing to bring up in some way, because he never thinks of himself like that, not even after all his lessons, not even after August’s meeting.

Alexander makes a small noise of assent.

“Well, there are alliances between the major families, rules to prevent conflicts. So if- If you want, we can add you to that alliance, and anyone who might…bother you would know that they had the family to deal with,” He pauses, “Me specifically, since I would be sponsoring you.”

Alexander’s expression is unreadable, “It sounds like the mafia.”

Aaron smiles hesitantly, “More meditation.”

Alexander smiles back, but clearly is focused elsewhere, “Sally? Why Sally?”

“It’s um, it’s a formal thing. It requires approval of the head of the family.”

Alexander’s eyes widen, “Sally is head of your family. Does that make you next in line?”

Aaron nods, not sure why that matters.

Alexander laughs to himself, not sharing the joke, “What if I change my mind? What if I don’t want to be under your protection anymore?”

Aaron tries not to let that hurt, it’s a logical question, “Either Sally or I could easily undo it. We would follow your wishes on the matter.”

Alexander says, “Would that even work? You’re telling me someone tried to _kill_ me, are they going to really think twice because you might be mad about it?”

Aaron wishes he knew, wishes he had a foolproof solution, wishes he could promise to keep Alexander safe, “I don’t know. It would be a start.”

Alexander stands, taking his plate and mug to the sink, “I need to think about it.”

“Okay,” the word is bitter in Aaron’s mouth, but the last thing he can ever do is force Alexander to do anything again. Even, Aaron supposes, even if that means Alexander choses possible death over his help.  

Alexander spends the remainder of the morning on the couch, watching TV, but looking distracted and somehow still tired even after hours of sleep. Aaron stays, awkwardly trying to keep out of Alexander’s way, only leaving when John comes home, when Alexander won’t be alone.

#

Aaron spends the rest of the day and all of Saturday by himself in his apartment, trying not to think about what he’ll do if Alexander says no, if he won’t let Aaron help and Aaron can’t protect him against whoever is after him.

But finally, on Sunday, Alexander calls and agrees to the protection, sending a rush of relief through Aaron.

Alexander has changed his mind about going into the city, saying he doesn’t want to drag Hercules’s family into anything, so Aaron arranges for Sally to fly into Princeton. The flight is expensive at this late date, but Aaron doesn’t care.

Sally gets in Wednesday evening, and Alexander comes over on Thanksgiving itself for the ceremony.

The process of the marking is simple enough, although centuries of ritual have built up around it, the details shifting depending on the type of relationship being indicated. Aaron had asked Sally to keep it simple, and so, she offers her permission and Aaron lays the marking with little fanfare.

To Alexander, without the ritual and without magical sight, it must seem anticlimactic, but Aaron and Sally both assure him that it’s been done. Sally goes off in a discussion of the various alliances and how such a symbol could provide meaningful protection, Alexander nodding interestedly.

Aaron only half pays attention, focused on the silver mark of his magic glowing against Alexander’s chest, there for anyone with the eyes to see. The sight leaves a bittersweet ache in Aaron’s own chest, only too aware that for Alexander it’s a means to an end, rather than the declaration people might take it for.

After, Sally insists they have some sort of dinner, some nod to Thanksgiving, claiming she wants to get to know Alexander. Unfortunately, Aaron’s apartment is stocked with limited ingredients, neither Aaron nor Alexander have much in the way of cooking skills, and Sally’s cooking is all vegan, gluten free, California style.

After an initial, dismayed glance, Aaron and Alexander try not to make eye contact with each other as they carefully chew their way through the pancakes she produces. Sally has a million questions for Alexander, who answers them all, as polite as Aaron’s ever seen him be, and responds with his own curious questions about Sally’s life as head of the Edwards family.

After dinner, as Alexander is leaving and to Aaron’s surprise, Sally invites Alexander for a hike the next day, “To see some nature.”

Alexander darts a look at Aaron, who tries to look inviting rather than surprised, and Alexander cautiously accepts.

After he’s gone, Sally looks evaluatingly at Aaron, “He seems nice.”

Aaron doesn’t answer, aware that if he does it will be embarrassingly effusive.

She flops on the couch, “Smart. He seems smart. Ambitious. Maybe a little too ambitious, but he seems to have the energy to back it up.”

Aaron sits on the other end of the couch, but still doesn’t answer, waiting for her get to the point.

Finally she says, “I just don’t want you to get hurt.” She’s watching him, all protective big sister, “You made a big commitment to him today, and I don’t even think he knows that. You need to be honest with him.”

His eyebrows fly up, mouth opening with the obvious rebuttal, but she interrupts, “Bullshit, Aaron. We both know you avoid the truth like it’s a sport.”

He looks away.

She goes on, “How can he give you want you want if he doesn’t even know you want it?”

Another long moment of silence opens up, before she moves on, letting the subject drop for now.

#

The hike the next day isn’t much of a hike. It’s too cold for much nature, and they decide not to go any further into the wild than the Insitute Woods. Sally is the only one disappointed by that, chatting happily as she drags them to the most remote point she can find, a thicket of trees, some water just visible ahead. She settles on a fallen log, happily mediating and seemingly smugly impervious to the cold, although Aaron can see the light haze of a magical warming hovering over her.

Not having the finesse for something like that himself, Aaron’s left shivering. Alexander seems determined not to complain, although he’s hunched in on himself, hands shoved in pockets, face hidden in his scarf. Neither of them are particularly outdoorsy people, and Aaron’s pretty sure if Alexander had been in charge of planning they’d be inside somewhere, preferably with coffee. It makes Aaron wonder why Alexander even agreed to this.

As they wait for Sally to find whatever inner peace she’s after, Alexander drifts closer and closer to Aaron, no doubt seeking body heat. Eventually he gets close enough that he’s brushing against Aaron’s arm, and Aaron can feel the way he’s shivering. Aaron wishes he had the skill to warm Alexander, or the kind of relationship where Aaron could casually throw an arm around him, but Aaron doesn’t have either one.

An idea occurs to him, not a solution, but a distraction. He turns to Alexander who blinks at Aaron in the chill breeze, “Can I try something?”

Alexander tilts his head to the side in a silent inquiry, and Aaron pulls one glove off, using his teeth. Alexander’s eyes follow the motion, still confused.

Aaron reaches for Alexander’s hand, where it’s shoved in the pocket of his coat, “Can I?”

Alexander pulls it out, and moves to take his glove off too, but Aaron shakes his head, “No, you can leave it on,” and carefully takes Alexander’s gloved hand in his own bare one.  

Aaron slides his fingers past the edge of the glove, under the sleeve of Alexander’s coat and sweater, until he’s just barely touching Alexander’s skin. Alexander is very still next to him, and Aaron pushes aside the shiver that even this small touch sends up his spine, working to center himself.

This is a finicky trick, not the sort of thing Aaron’s naturally attuned to, but it’s one of Sally’s precision exercises and he’s been working on it. Very carefully, Aaron releases a small bit of magical energy, creating the the barest thread of connection to Alexander, grounded by that small contact between Aaron’s fingers and the soft skin of Alexander’s wrist.

When the connection falls into place, Alexander gasps, looking around them in wonder, suddenly able to see the shimmering colors around them. He takes in the gentle pulsing life of the plants, still alive even in their winter bareness, the quicker thrum of a bird flying across the gray winter sky, and then turns to Aaron. His breath catches, and his free hand comes up to Aaron’s face, as if he can touch the light there. He stops just shy of actually making contact though, lowering his hand and saying, “Look at you.”

Aaron manages to keep the connection steady despite the way his heart skips a beat, and says in return, “Look at you.”

Alexander does, looking down at his own warm, golden glow. He studies his hand, and then looks down at his chest, where amidst his own warm light, there’s the mark that Aaron has made, the silver sheen contrasting obviously. Alexander touches it gently, as if it might have a texture or weight, but of course it doesn’t, his gloved fingers merely landing on the wool of his coat.

Alexander looks up at Aaron, hand still resting over the mark, and Aaron is lost for a long moment in those dark eyes, trying and failing to read the expression there. The moment stretches, might have gone on forever, but, embarrassingly, Aaron loses control of the thread of magic, which snaps.

Alexander blinks at the sudden loss of the magical light, and Aaron, face warm, lets go of Alexander’s wrist, focussing intently on slipping his glove back on.

The two of them go back to stamping their feet to stay warm, until finally Sally emerges from her mediation, cheerful in the way that only someone cheating with a warming spell could be.

She does take them out for coffee afterward, which is some small recompense, although awkwardly enough she takes them to the coffee shop where they’ve been having their weekly meetings, the place where Aaron realized what he’d done to Alexander.

Alexander rushes through his cup of coffee, claiming a need to work on a class project and makes a quick escape. Aaron can’t blame him one bit.

Sally flies out later that night, and Aaron is left alone in his empty apartment, trying to distract himself with the internet, with a book, with television, none of which holds his attention.

#

Aaron is prepared for a long weekend alone except for his homework, and is surprised but pleased when Alexander texts him the next day, asking him over for dinner.

Alexander has ordered pizza, pepperoni and bacon, saying he needed to recover from his vegan Thanksgiving, and Aaron laughs, agreeing. They eat, watching a movie of Alexander’s choice.

Alexander is right next to Aaron on the couch, not quite close enough to touch, but close enough that Aaron can feel the heat of him, can sneak glimpses of him, can catch him watching Aaron in turn once or twice. Aaron has a difficult time focusing on the movie, quickly losing track of the action.

When the movie ends, with a series of events that Aaron doesn’t understand or care about, Alexander clears the pizza box and plates to the kitchen. He comes back to the living room, where Aaron is trying to decide if he should be leaving, not sure what Alexander wants. Alexander stands in front of Aaron, silently studying him, face blank and Aaron cautiously watches him back.

He’s just decided Alexander isn’t going to say anything, that he must want Aaron to go, and is leaning forward to stand, when Alexander reaches out, placing a hand on Aaron’s shoulder.

Aaron freezes, unsure what the gesture means, but lets himself relax back into the cushions of the couch when Alexander pushes slightly.

As Aaron leans back, Alexander lets his hand trail up Aaron’s neck, coming to rest softly on Aaron’s jaw, a caress.

Aaron’s breath catches, his heart pounding, as Alexander’s intent becomes clear. Seeing the understanding on Aaron’s face, Alexander asks, “Is this okay?”

Aaron nods, wondering if this is why Alexander invited him over today, hoping it was, hoping this isn’t only a spur of the moment impulse.

Either way, Alexander climbs on the couch, kneeling over Aaron’s lap, just like that tantalizingly close. Aaron is surprised by the sudden move, but his hands come up automatically, steadying Alexander at the waist, the position familiar from hours spent right here on this couch, kissing when their roommates were out.

Alexander pauses there for a moment, face only inches away from Aaron’s, maybe checking in again with Aaron, maybe checking in again with himself, but finally he leans in and presses his lips to Aaron’s, almost chaste.

Despite the innocence of the kiss, it sends a wave of need, a wave of longing though Aaron. He wants to clutch at Alexander’s waist, to wrap his arms tighter, to bring them together, to hold Alexander to himself, to keep him there forever. Instead, Aaron carefully follows Alexander’s lead, gentle hands, gentle kiss. Aaron didn’t think he’d ever get to feel Alexander’s lips again, and he’s not going to mess it up now by pushing too hard, by letting his own desperate wanting scare Alexander away.

But apparently he’s not alone in his desire, because Alexander’s mouth opens to Aaron, and as the kisses turns warm and deep, he reaches down, grabbing one of Aaron’s politely placed hands, and guides it up, under his own shirt, skin to skin.

A hint that broad isn’t one that Aaron has any interest in ignoring. He presses his fingers into Alexander’s back, and slides his other hand down to Alexander’s ass, pulling him close against Aaron.

Alexander responds with enthusiasm, hands under Aaron’s shirt, on his shoulders, and their kisses start to become sloppy and desperate. Aaron can feel the scrape of Alexander’s new facial hair against his cheek, and he can feel Alexander’s growing hardness, pressing into his stomach.

As they continue to kiss, Aaron reaches between them, the angle made difficult by the desperate way they’re straining into each other, and manages to get a hand on Alexander’s hardening cock, rubbing him through the soft fabric of his sweatpants. Alexander moans, and Aaron can feel him hardening further under his hand.

Aaron keeps up the motion, ignoring the bad angle until Alexander is fully hard and losing track of their kisses as he clutches at Aaron’s shoulders. His mouth falls open, breathing against Aaron’s. Aaron can’t resist the urge to suck on his slack lower lip, biting gently. Alexander allows it for a moment, and then, seemingly overwhelmed, tucks his face into Aaron’s neck, curving into Aaron, his cock straining against the fabric of his pants, warm under Aaron’s hand.

Aaron runs a soothing hand, along Alexander’s back, and takes his hand away from that heat for a moment. Alexander moans frustrated, breath still fast against Aaron’s neck, fingers clutching at his back. Aaron moves his hand to the waistband of Alexander’s sweats, and asks, “Can I…?”

Alexander nods into his neck, desperate and quick, and Aaron slips his hand into Alexander’s sweatpants, past the band of his underwear to grip his cock. Alexander moans again, relieved, when Aaron’s hand closes over him, and he presses a grateful kiss on Aaron’s collarbone.

Aaron doesn’t waste any time with teasing or buildup, just starts stroking Alexander in the way that’s guaranteed to take him to the edge. And maybe it’s unromantic, but Aaron’s missed this too, this heavy perfect warmth in his hand, the slick sound his hand makes moving over Alexander, the feeling of Alexander’s wet breath against him, the smell of sex in the air.

Alexander holds tightly to Aaron, unusually silent, only his increasingly desperate breathing giving away the efficacy of Aaron’s strokes, until he comes with a soft sound like he’s just been struck, all the air stuck in his lungs, as he shakes in Aaron’s arms, pulsing on Aaron’s hand, on Aaron’s shirt. Aaron holds Alexander through the aftermath, lets him slump against Aaron, gently rubbing his back as he catches his breath.

Aaron is aching in his own pants, and Alexander must be able to feel it, slumped in Aaron’s lap as he is, but Aaron is not going to push, is not going to ask for anything.

After a moment, Alexander pulls himself up, and kisses Aaron, lazy, and relaxed after coming. Aaron tries to match that slow unconcern, even though his heart is pounding, cock thrumming with the desperate need to come, each kiss only making him more eager to push up against Alexander’s weight, seeking any hint of friction.

Perhaps noting Aaron’s poorly concealed hunger, Alexander only gives Aaron a few lazy kisses, before twisting around in Aaron’s lap to reach behind them. The movement breaks Aaron’s resolve, causing his hips to jump against Alexander, as Alexander shoves the coffee table back. Satisfied with the space he’s created, Alexander lifts himself off Aaron’s lap, and slides to the floor. The sight of him there, between Aaron’s legs, so close to where Aaron’s cock is tenting his jeans, makes Aaron’s pulse jump with wanting.  

Alexander tugs Aaron forward on the couch, and, after a glance back up at Aaron for permission, unbuttons and unzips Aaron’s jeans, pulling them and his underwear down far enough to free Aaron’s cock.

Aaron lets himself be manhandled, focusing on not coming on the spot, as Alexander touches him for the first time in a year. And then, oh god. Alexander’s mouth is on Aaron’s cock. He doesn’t tease anymore than Aaron had, just taking Aaron down exactly as Aaron likes. Aaron is already close to the edge, and less than a minute passes, a minute of Alexander showing that he’s not forgotten anything about Aaron’s preferences, a minute before Aaron just manages to grunt a warning, before everything disappears in a white burst of pleasure.

When Aaron comes back to himself, Alexander is standing in front of him. He probably wants Aaron to go now. Aaron pulls himself into a more upright position, tucking himself back in his pants, and staring in consternation at the come on his shirt. It’s easier to focus on this small problem, rather than how little Aaron wants to leave. Maybe Aaron can get enough of it off with some paper towels that it won’t get on his coat during the walk home.

Alexander stops that train of thought, leaning down to kiss Aaron softly, once on the mouth, and once on Aaron’s cheek. He pauses there and says, lips moving against Aaron’s skin, too close for Aaron to see his face, “Stay.”  

Aaron’s heart leaps, shirt forgotten, hope blooming, but he just says, “Yes.”

Alexander pulls back, and looks at Aaron, searching for something. Whatever he finds must be enough, because he kisses Aaron again and leads Aaron back to his bedroom.

They spend the night in Alexander’s small twin bed, Aaron tangled close to Alexander, both necessity and desire.

#

In the morning, Aaron expects Alexander to ask him to leave, but Alexander offers Aaron breakfast, and then he invites Aaron back to his bed where Aaron takes his time reacquainting himself with every part of Alexander he can manage. After, Aaron again expects to be asked to leave, but Alexander just loans Aaron clean clothes and leans against him on the couch as he reads a book for class. Surely Alexander will kick Aaron out before the housemates start arriving back from Thanksgiving, but every time Aaron hints at leaving, Alexander ignores it, settling closer to Aaron.

When Hercules and Lafayette arrive from New York, Aaron and Alexander are tangled together on the couch, Alexander having given up on the book for a terrible made for TV mystery film. Aaron tenses, expecting Lafayette and Hercules to be unhappy to see him, but they seem mostly resigned. John and Ricky arrive not that much later, and John just rolls his eyes. Aaron is even invited to the dinner they cobble together from the Thanksgiving leftovers that Ricky and Hercules’s parents had sent back with them.

Aaron is careful to be polite, trying not to step on any toes, trying not to upset anyone here who might convince Alexander not to pull his chair close to Aaron’s at dinner, not to casually steal food off Aaron’s plate, or not to softly kiss Aaron goodbye in full view of the whole group when Aaron finally has to leave.

#

In the last two weeks of classes, Aaron slips back into Alexander's life, accepting every offer of time, of affection, of sex. Within a few days, he’s more or less living in Alexander’s room in the house, sleeping every night in his twin bed. It would make more sense, if they mean to share, to go to Aaron’s big two bedroom apartment, equipped with two queen mattresses, but every offer Aaron makes in that direction is transformed into plans to come back to the house, and Aaron picks up the hint. If that’s where Alexander is comfortable, Aaron will follow him there, even if it means dealing with knowing looks from all his new (old) roommates.

Aaron would be willing to put up with a lot more, not just because he’s missed Alexander terribly and being with Alexander makes Aaron happier than he’s felt in a year, but because of the lingering threat of whoever wanted to hurt Alexander, which makes Aaron feel more comfortable when they’re together. When they go out, Aaron stays close, hoping his presence, combined with the mark Alexander now carries, says all that’s needed. And when Alexander goes out by himself, Aaron can’t help worrying, relief filling him every time Alexander comes home safe.

No amount of thought brings them any closer to figuring out who would have hurt Alexander. Eventually, Aaron shifts his focus away from addressing the source of the threat, to offering Alexander as much protection as possible. The last week of classes, tangled together in bed, Aaron asks Alexander what he’s doing for Christmas.

Alexander smiles at him, “Why, do you want to have another _Lord of the Rings-_ mas?”

Aaron, distracted for a moment, smiles back, “Of course. But what I wanted to ask was, what if you came out to California with me?”

Alexander’s brow furrows in confusion, “California?”

Aaron smoothes a hand over Alexander’s arm, feeling the fine hairs there, “Sally will be there, and uh, the people who trained her in magic.”

“Lucille?” Alexander asks, showing that, as always, he’s been paying attention to what Aaron tells him.

“Lucille,” Aaron confirms. “She’s a very powerful magic user.”

“Right…” Alexander says, waiting for the follow-up.

“Well, I was talking to her, and she’s offered to do some protective work.” Aaron worries his lower lip, “To help keep you safe. While we figure this out. Nothing you would notice, just some shields.”

Alexander opens his mouth to say something, and then seems to change his mind, “Okay.”

Aaron wasn’t expecting that, “Are you sure?”

Alexander settles into Aaron’s side, “I am if you are.”

And, aside from a disagreement about who will pay for the flight, that’s that.

#

The break is interesting. They spend the first week with Lucille and the rest of the women in the house on the Berkeley hill, and together they place a series of protections on Alexander. When the last one is set, shining solidly to Aaron’s eyes, he feels the nervous knot of worry that had settled in his chest relax slightly. Of course, there’s no such thing as perfectly safe, Alexander could still get sick, or have an accident. Some physical attacks would still be effective, and even magic with enough power behind it, but the insidious casting that had nearly taken him from Aaron would have no chance against the armor he’s currently wearing.

The last night they spend in the house, Lucille takes Aaron aside, “Your man,” Aaron presses his teeth together to avoid arguing with the characterization, “He has a destiny.”

She reaches up, turning Aaron’s face to one side and then the other, as if she can read it like a sentence, “I know your family saw you for a leader, and maybe that was you once, before, but…” She trails off, peering at him once more, “I think now they’re wrong.”

She points to Alexander, who is chatting with Sally, “He’ll be a leader. You’ll be at his side.”

Alexander says something, and takes on a satisfied expression as Sally laughs. She tosses a joke back, and he laughs along with her, his eyes crinkling with the force of his smile. Aaron watches them, a warm feeling in his chest, only too happy to let go of a destiny he never wanted anyway. A destiny that Alexander _does_ want. And, if Lucille is right, Aaron will be there with Alexander, orbiting each other in some fashion. That’s enough for Aaron.

#

The second week of the break, they take BART into the city, and Aaron pays for a hotel room. It’s a small room in an older building where none of the rooms are quite square. Their room overlooks the trolley, tourists gather there, loud at night, but they don’t care.

Aaron and Alexander explore all the tourists spots: fisherman’s wharf, Ghirardelli’s, Lombard street. The get buffeted by the wind and fog on the beach, and then take BART back to Berkeley to marvel at the sun, and spend hours wandering Moe’s books, leaving with far too many volumes between them.

They spend more than one night trying to find the best dance club in the Castro, but every club seems the same, because they get distracted by each other, by the way they fit together on the dance floor.

On Christmas, they spend the day huddled in their room, reviving the tradition of the _Lord of the Rings_ marathon after a long year’s break.   

They stay in the city through New Year’s Day, dancing through New Year’s Eve, and sleeping through most of the following day, before flying back to New Jersey and the last semester of their college career.

#

Due to the impending end of college, they don’t have as much free time to spend together as they might like. Alexander is finishing up law school applications, and Aaron is working on his senior project, but every night they eventually they end up in the same bed, and John grumbles that, since Aaron’s more or less moved back in, he should really be paying rent.

Their first real disagreement of this second attempt at something comes a few weeks into the semester, after Alexander’s sent off his last law school application, and turned his attention fully back to his schoolwork.

He and Aaron are in the library working on their separate projects, but Alexander’s attention has slipped, and he’s texting instead. He seems to be caught up on his reading, and could probably leave, but Aaron doesn’t suggest it, finding it comforting to look up from his work to see Alexander still there.

Then, into this relative peace sweeps Thomas Jefferson. Aaron doesn’t notice him at first, lost in trying to fix the formatting on one of his charts, fighting with the software, but a loud laugh breaks his concentration. When he looks up, there’s Jefferson, an expression of delight on his face.

Aaron hasn’t seen Jefferson since their first, terrible meeting. He can see now what he should have seen then, the obvious shine of magic that clings to the man.

Jefferson can see as clearly as he always had, and he’s looking at where Alexander is now marked, claimed as a member of Aaron’s family.

Jefferson laughs again, “Hamilton, I always knew you were a social climber, but even I didn’t think you’d get there on your back. Congratulations I guess.”

Aaron _had_ thought that maybe his lingering dislike of Jefferson was irrational, an association without a firm ground. Of course there’s also the lingering suspicion of the man, the only other person Aaron knows on campus capable of casting the magic that had nearly killed Alexander. But aside from all of that Aaron sees now that Jefferson is just terrible and anger courses through Aaron. He stands, glaring at Jefferson, silent as he struggles to find the right words. As much as Aaron might want to, he can’t lay a spell on Jefferson, their families are allies, it would be a catastrophe.

Aaron works to drain the power from his words, to find a formulation that won’t end in a magical cold war, and Jefferson just smirks at him, “Nothing to say, Burr? Can’t disagree?”

Aaron finally manages, fighting past the anger, to say, filmy and insubstantial, “Don’t talk about him like that.”

Jefferson mock frowns, “And you, Burr? How the mighty Edwards family has fallen. Putting a ring on the first person to spread their legs for you?” He shakes his head in exaggerated sadness.

Aaron doesn’t care what Jefferson says about him, especially when Jefferson obviously knows nothing about Aaron, but Alexander, now standing behind Aaron, says, “Fuck off.”

Other people in the library are now glaring at them for the disruption, more so when Jefferson laughs again, loud and mean, “Ah, that famous Hamilton wit.”

Aaron speaks before Alexander can say anything truly irrevocable, “Just leave us alone, Jefferson. We’ll stay out of your way, and you can stay out of ours.” He’s careful not to make it an order, but his magic is pushing, trying to solidify the words into reality.

Jefferson must be able to feel something of it, because he says quietly, “Careful, Burr. Remember who we are.”

Aaron replies, soft but serious, “I remember, who I am. Do you?” His power, all the power he rarely draws on, the power Aaron mostly fights against, that spends its time turned in on him, guarding his words, _all_ that power thrums under his skin, bright and eager.

Jefferson takes a step backward, expression unsure, “You wouldn’t.”

Aaron shrugs, watching him closely.

Jefferson takes another step backward, “Fine. I’ll stay away, and you’ll stay away. We’ll just keep out of each other’s way.”

“Fine,” Aaron agrees.

With one final, sullen nod to the both of them, Jefferson backs away, disappearing into the stacks of books.

Aaron watches him until he’s out of sight.

“Jesus,” Alexander says, sounding disgusted.

Aaron turns to see that Alexander’s packing up his books, He gives up his own project as a lost cause for the moment, packing up too and following Alexander out of the library under the baleful gaze of the other students trying to study.

Outside, Alexander says, voice carefully even, “Did you just threaten him?”

Aaron shrugs, unable to deny it.

“That’s- _Why_?”

Aaron darts a glance at him, “He shouldn’t talk about you like that.”

Alexander shakes his head, “You can’t threaten everyone who talks shit about me. You’d never get anything else done just for starters.”

Aaron hitches his backpack higher on his shoulder, “He knows he shouldn’t mess with you now. Besides, we still don’t know that it wasn’t him who cursed you.”

Alexander makes an impatient noise, “Yes we _do._ Come on, that’s ridiculous.”

Aaron just shrugs, not finding it ridiculous at all.

Alexander sighs, and they walk in silence for a moment, leaving campus and working their way into the residential neighborhood where Alexander’s house is. It’s cold and dark, and their breath makes soft clouds under the street lights. Nothing is really resolved, but Aaron thinks it’s going better than their last Jefferson induced conflict.

Alexander breaks the silence a couple of blocks from the house, “What did he mean? When he said, “Put a ring on it?”

He’s watching the sidewalk, not looking at Aaron who sorts his words carefully, “The mark we gave you is used, uh, when someone marries into the family.” Aaron rushes on, “But not just for that. For anyone who joins really. That’s just- That’s just the most common reason.”

Alexander doesn’t look up, and all he says is, “Oh.”

Aaron waits, but there’s nothing more forthcoming, and then they’re home. Alexander seems to leave the topic at the door, moving straight into arguing with Lafayette about ordering Thai for dinner instead of pizza.

#

Aaron is cautious after the run-in with Jefferson. If Jefferson _was_ the person who had attacked Alexander, Aaron hadn’t really done anything to smoothe over whatever rift might have motivated such a thing. However, Alexander is well protected, and Aaron is with him so often, that after a couple of weeks of no further incidents and no more encounters with Jefferson, Aaron starts to relax.

Maybe it should have occurred to Aaron that, by essentially saying to get to Alexander a person would have to come through Aaron, he was making himself a target, but it didn’t.

It doesn’t even occur to him when one Thursday he comes home from class feeling ill. Everything seems gray and dim, as if all the lights are at half power, leaving him dizzy and nauseated.

Alexander fusses over him, checking for a temperature and sending him to bed early and Aaron falls asleep before Alexander even makes it to bed.

Aaron wakes up, in the middle of the night, a burning pain leaving him gasping. As Aaron tries to catch his breath he sees that Alexander came to bed at some point, asleep on his stomach next to Aaron, still in the dim light filtering in from the streetlights. He is...

Too still- too-

Alexander’s familiar golden glow is gone.

His vivid light. His- No.

 _No_.

Aaron forgets his own pain, lost in the much more acute panic that’s filling him. He scrambles up, heart pounding, to reach out and grab Alexander’s shoulder, too rough.

He’s more than half expecting Alexander to be cold under his hand, as cold to the touch as he is in Aaron’s sight, but Alexander’s shoulder is warm. And- Oh god, he’s moving under Aaron’s hand, startled awake by Aaron’s panicked grip. His voice is thick with sleep, but alive, strong, “Aaron?”

Aaron wants to answer, but his relief and the pain he can’t ignore anymore are both too strong, leaving him gasping again. He falls back into the pillows, struggling to get air, slowly realizing that it’s not just Alexander’s light that’s missing. Aaron can’t see any magical light, the world is as dark as it was before his training.  

“Aaron,” Alexander’s voice is more awake now, panicked, and he’s kneeling next to Aaron on the mattress, cupping Aaron’s face gently, trying to get Aaron to look at him, “Aaron, tell me what’s wrong.”

Aaron tries to focus, distracted by the realization that it’s not air he can’t get enough of, it’s something less tangible, “I don’t know.” Even with the intellectual understanding that air isn’t the problem he can’t seem to stop the instinct to gasp for oxygen, and it takes him a second to muster another sentence, “I can’t see the lights.”

Alexander looks confused for a moment, but then says, “Magic? You can’t see magic.”

Aaron nods, “It hurts, I feel,” another gasp, “Smothered.” It’s as accurate as he can be.

Alexander is reaching for the beside table, “Okay, okay. I’m going to call Sally, just try to breathe.”

Aaron doesn’t have the energy to respond, as another wave of inexplicable, unlocatable pain rolls over him.

Alexander puts the phone on speaker, and Sally sounds cheerful when she answers, “Alexander? Why are you calling so la-”

Alexander barrels right through, “Sally, something’s wrong with Aaron and I think it’s a magic thing.”

She’s suddenly matter of fact, “Tell me.”

Alexander rattles off, “He says he can’t see magic, he’s having a hard time breathing, and he’s in pain.”

Aaron shakes his head, and manages, “It’s not the air that’s the problem, it’s...I don’t know.”

Sally sounds grim, “It’s not air, it’s magic. _Shit_. We should have been ready for this. It’s a way around magical protections, you just wrap someone in a shield and they’re cut off from magical energy. We- People with magic need it like oxygen or water.”

Alexander’s brows are drawn tight, but the hand he’s running up and down Aaron’s arm is steady and soothing, “Sally, what do we do?”

Her voice shakes a little, “It’s easy enough to break if you have even a little magic, but we don’t have time to fuck around. God. I need to find out who’s in the area.”

Alexander glances at Aaron, “What’s your relationship with the Jefferson family?”

Aaron tries to glare, but Alexander ignores him.

Sally sounds relieved, “Yes! Good. One of their boys goes to school there, right? I’m hanging up. I’ll call you back when I know more.”

There’s a few moments, just Aaron struggling against waves of undefined pain, and Alexander murmuring to him, comforting nothings.

Things are starting to dim around Aaron, even regular sight a challenge against the suffocating force of the pain, when Sally finally calls back. Alexander steps away from the bed, phone not on speaker this time, conversation too soft for Aaron to hear, but Alexander relaxes slightly at whatever she says.

He comes back over to say, “Thomas is on his way. He better walk those fucking long legs over here fucking fast. I’m going to unlock the door, I’ll be right back.”

Aaron can’t argue, forced to leave the the decisions to Alexander and Sally, no energy for anything but trying to force breath into his lungs, to keep the pain from dragging him into nothingness.

Alexander returns, and kneels on the floor next the bed, next to Aaron. Long moments pass and Aaron feels himself starting to drift, his fingers going numb, breath coming in shorter and shorter gasps, vision graying until he can hardly see Alexander. Alexander is with him all the while, his hand on Aaron’s arm soothing until the numbness creeps higher and Aaron can no longer feel it.

Alexander’s comforting whispers trail off as Aaron’s gasps turn to small hitches of breath, each one a struggle, each one sounding like the last. Alexander presses his forehead into Aaron’s shoulder, and Aaron can just feel him there, hear the soft repeated whisper, “Please, please, please.”

It occurs to Aaron, even as he struggles, that this is almost certainly it. That he’s going to die here, without ever having told Alexander how much he loves him. Although, perhaps that’s for the best, why should he leave Alexander with that burden on top of everything? Aaron wonders if this is how Alexander spent his last moments with his mother, waiting and pleading until the next breath didn’t come. Aaron hates that he’s doing this to Alexander again, leaving him with another bad memory. Worst of all, is the idea that he’s leaving Alexander unprotected. Whoever is doing this is still out there, and Aaron hopes that Sally will make sure that nothing else happens to Alexander, that she’ll keep the promise Aaron made on behalf of their family.

Aaron’s just wishing his last memory of Alexander could be a smile, could be joy, not this panicked desperation, when Jefferson sweeps in. Aaron can’t really see much through the haze, but he hears a new voice, “Jesus,” and then there’s a hand on his forehead, and it’s like finally bursting up from under the waves when you thought the ocean would pull you under. Everything is suddenly bright and loud, the air sweet in his lungs, and the intangible absence suddenly gone as everything shines warmly with magic again. He turns just enough to see Alexander’s golden glow, warmest of all.

Aaron takes a few gulping breaths, the world coming back into focus, figures forming under the light - Alexander’s concerned face, Jefferson standing there, coat thrown over his pajamas, one hand tugging at his own hair, and, beyond in the doorway, the sleepy faces of of Hercules and Lafayette.

“What the fuck,” Jefferson says. “How am I getting called out of bed at three in the morning by my _grandmother,_ the scariest person I know, to save your dumb life.” He pulls at his hair again, “What the _fuck_ . Y’all are annoying, but not _murder_ annoying.”

Hercules interrupts from the door, sharply concerned, “Murder? Again? Is everyone alright?”

Jefferson twists to look at Hercules for a long beat, and then turns back to Alexander, “Again? _What_ the fuck?”

Alexander just shakes his head, ignoring all of them. He lays a hand on Aaron’s chest which is now rising and falling steadily, “Aaron?”

Aaron places a hand over his, and says hoarsely, “I’m okay.”

Alexander nods, and leans forward pressing a quick kiss to Aaron’s mouth, then to his cheek, “Okay.” When Alexander pulls back there are tears on his face for the first time that night.

Hercules is pulling Jefferson out of the room, “Everyone is okay, right? No one needs this upset stranger?”

Alexander waves him away, and Hercules pulls the door closed behind them, leaving Aaron and Alexander alone.

Alexander texts Sally, and then climbs into bed next to Aaron, who wraps an arm around him, chasing away that fearful moment when he had thought Alexander’s life was extinguished forever, clinging to the reassuring solidity of his body, the heat of him, the sound of his breath.

“Don’t do that again,” whispers Alexander, pressing close to Aaron.

Aaron kisses his forehead, too drained and exhausted to answer reassuringly or to prevent himself from falling back asleep almost immediately.

#

The next morning, the only lingering sign Aaron carries of his close call is a slight rasp in his throat. Meanwhile, Alexander looks exhausted, and Aaron doesn’t want to know how long he stayed awake after Aaron was already asleep.

Over breakfast, Alexander declares that this is the last straw, and Aaron can’t help but agree, if this person is willing to anger the Edwards family, and all of their alliances, there’s no telling what they’ll do. Aaron and Alexander decide that as soon as it’s not ungodly early on the West coast they’ll call Sally and try to work out a new investigatory plan, but before they even finish the meal, Lafayette is leading Jefferson back to the kitchen.

He’s wearing actual clothes under his coat this time, and looks slightly less frantic. Aaron’s not sure why he’s here again, but first things first, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Jefferson says, “You fucking owe me.”

It’s true, so Aaron keeps his mouth shut, but Jefferson continues, looking slightly sheepish, “Also, I guess sorry for being a dick at the library. I did _not_ think you guys were for real.”

Aaron isn’t sure that’s really an adequate apology or explanation for calling Alexander a gold-digging whore, but he made himself clear at the time, so he just shrugs.

Alexander ignores the whole exchange, “Thank you for what you did last night. To what do we owe the pleasure of your presence this morning?”

Jefferson seems relieved to leave the whole matter of apologies behind, “Your man with the mythological name explained your problem last night, and you are about to owe me double time, because I’m pretty sure I know who’s after you.”

Aaron is suddenly tense, “You do?”

Jefferson leans against the counters, “Yeah, I recognized the magical signature. Also, this dude was asking me all sorts of questions about Hamilton a few months ago. I thought crush maybe, not _murder_.”

“Who?” asks Aaron.

“George Hanover. British dude.”

Aaron doesn’t know the name.

Alexander’s confused expression indicates he doesn’t either. “Why would some guy I don’t even know be trying to kill me?”

“That I do not know,” Jefferson says, “But I _do_ know his address, so I was figuring, since you already owe me so big, we’d go ask him.”

And that’s what they do eventually, although first Aaron calls Sally, trying to figure out if they know anything about this guy. Some digging reveals he’s a member of a fairly old British magical family, no alliances with any of the major U.S. families.

Without any such connections Sally assures Aaron that he has permission to use the full force of the Edwards name, that no one could deny their right to defend their own against such a threat.

Aaron’s already feeling grim after that conversation and then he sees Alexander, coat on, clearly planning to go with them, “What are you doing?”

Jefferson says, “Don’t look at me, I told him it would be a bad idea for the no magic-having, murder target to tag along.”

Alexander just glares at Aaron, “I’m not staying here waiting to hear if he’s succeeded in killing you this time.”

Aaron is exasperated, “Don’t you think having you along is going to make preventing that more difficult?”

Alexander just says, “I’ll stay out of your way,” chin set in that stubborn way that means he’s going to argue this until the sun sets if that’s what it takes.  

And Aaron, can’t ( _won’t_ ) make Alexander do anything he doesn’t want to, so he gives up, and the three of them head to the apartment building, less than six blocks away, where Jefferson claims this George Hanover lives.

When they arrive, Jefferson consults his phone for the apartment number, and they go up to the third floor. Alexander and Jefferson press themselves into the wall, out of eyesight of the door, Alexander partially hidden behind Jefferson’s height, and Aaron knocks.

Aaron had thought Jefferson’s information might be bad, why _would_ someone who didn’t know Alexander be trying to kill him, but the panicked look on the man’s face when he opens the door and sees Aaron says it all.

He tries to slam the door, tries to leave, but Aaron says, a trickle of force behind it, “Stay.”

The man freezes, and Aaron goes on, more force this time, “Tell me the truth. Are you George Hanover?”

The man nods stiffly.

Aaron goes on, “Did you try to kill me?”

Hanover nods again.

“And Alexander Hamilton?”

“Yes.”

Anger tries to take over, but Aaron continues steadily, “Why?”

“I was told by a seer that Alexander Hamilton would be my downfall.”

Aaron gapes at him, even for a murderer that seems unhinged. Apparently Alexander agrees because he jumps away from the wall to stare directly at Hanover, “Have you never _read_? Is the phrase ‘self-fulfilling prophecy’ ringing any bells?”

Jefferson reaches out with one long arm, pulling Alexander back behind himself, but seems to agree with the general sentiment adding, “Oedipus, man. _Oedipus_.”

George’s eyes flash at the sight of Alexander, and he seems to be gathering himself for something. Aaron doesn’t give him a chance, “George, you will never again do intentional harm.”

There’s a whole ritual for binding, Sally had just recited it to him over the phone, but Aaron has no interest in formality, instead he lets his own power do the talking, letting his words ring out with the force of a hammer on an anvil.

George freezes, but Aaron goes on, words grinding into the man’s bones, into his blood, into his future, “You will never again do magic.”

George opens his mouth, a protest in the making, but Aaron goes on inexorably, “You will stay away from Alexander Hamilton and all of the people he’s close to.”

Aaron can see it settling into the man’s very being, a silver binding, etched deep in him and Hanover has no choice but to take a step back, close the door, stay there until after they’ve left.

There’s a moment of silence, and Alexander says, “That’s it? Seems anticlimactic.”

Jefferson is pale, “That’s only because you can’t see how deeply Burr just destroyed that guy. That was…” He trails off, shaking his head, “Trust me, you will _not_ be seeing him again.”

Alexander looks from Jefferson’s pallor, to Aaron, his eyes widening.

Jefferson cautiously reaches out to shake Aaron’s hand, “You owe me, but I am not going to fuck with you, man. I’ve never seen anything like that, and I’m glad we’re on your good side.”

Aaron just shakes his hand in return, “Thank you for your help.”

Jefferson nods, and then with one final glance, half awe, half fear, he leaves them alone in the hall.

Aaron waits until he’s out of sight, and then lets himself slump into the wall, drained and dizzy.

Alexander rushes over to him, “Jesus, are you okay?”

Aaron manages to nod, “Just took a lot of energy.” He reaches up and pulls Alexander to him, arm over his shoulders, hug and physical support at the same time. He hold onto Alexander and tries to make himself realize that Alexander is safe now, that the threat is gone.

Alexander leans into the hug, steadying Aaron, and they stand there while Aaron waits for the world to stop spinning. After a minute Alexander says, softly, “So he has to do whatever you said?”

Aaron nods.

Alexander seems to think about it, “That’s not how it worked for Sally or Lucille exactly, it seemed more hands on, more formal. I guess I haven’t seen you do that much magic.”

Aaron says, “I can do other stuff if I practice, but my…strength is with words.”

It’s close to the things Aaron doesn’t like to talk about, so he pushes himself away from the wall, “I think I’m ready to head home.”

The walk that seemed short on the way over, seems unbearably long now that Aaron is exhausted, but eventually they make it back to the house, Aaron leaning heavily on Alexander by the end.

Once in the house, Alexander doesn’t even bother to take Aaron down the hall to the bedroom, dumping him directly on the couch. Aaron just barely gets his coat off, before he’s dipping into an exhausted sleep.

#

When Aaron wakes, the house is dark and still. He lays on the couch, under the blanket someone has draped over him, trying to reorient himself. It’s Friday night, that’s right. Everyone’s probably out.

He gets up and goes to the bathroom, where he washes his face and brushes his teeth. He peeks in Alexander’s bedroom, on his way, but it’s empty, Alexander probably out enjoying himself now that the threat is gone.

But when Aaron goes to the kitchen in search of food, Alexander’s at the kitchen table, hair pulled up in a sloppy knot, wearing his glasses, a line of concentration between his eyebrows as he makes edits on whatever paper he’s working on. He looks up when Aaron walks in, and smiles, “Hey, look who's emerged from hibernation.”

Aaron detours away from the food to lean down and press a hello kiss into Alexander’s cheek. Alexander smiles up at him, and Aaron can’t help noting the dark circles under Alexander’s eyes, feeling guilty. He cups Alexander’s cheek, running a thumb along the edge of the dark shadow, under the lens of Alexander’s glasses. Alexander just reaches up, and guides Aaron’s hand away, pressing a kiss in the palm, whiskers tickling gently there, “Just let me finish this. There’s pizza in the fridge.”

Aaron finds a box of cold pizza, and eats, silently watching Alexander work, pen scratching over the last couple of pages. He takes his time with the last paragraph, writing whole new sentences and crossing out others. Aaron finishes the pizza and disposes of the empty box.

When Alexander finally seems satisfied with the last line, he stacks the papers, and looks up at Aaron, “We need to talk.”

Aaron feels cold. Of course. Alexander’s safe now, he’s going to want out of the bond, maybe out of the relationship. Aaron picks through responses, discarding ‘fine’ and ‘okay’ as impossible because Aaron feels far from either. He finally manages, “Go ahead.”

Alexander’s mouth twists, but he says, “We’ve never really talked about what we want out of this relationship. Or, I guess, if it even _is_ a relationship. But we’re graduating soon, hopefully I’m going to law school, and I guess it just seems time for an honest conversation.”

Aaron swallows, still waiting for the other shoe to drop, but there’s a silence, and finally Alexander says, “I just- I need you to participate. I feel like you’re always keeping me at a distance, hiding from me, and I have no idea what you want.”

“I want you,” Aaron says, honest as always.

Alexander’s gaze doesn’t soften, “Okay, you want me, but do you want to be together with me? I can’t do this if I feel like there’s always an arm’s length between us. I can’t do this if I’m going to keep finding surprise sisters, surprise magical powers, if half the things I know about you I learn from Thomas thinking I already know.”

Aaron’s mouth is dry, and he feels the trap closing in on him, feels himself losing the freedom he’s had since he escaped his uncle.

Alexander studies him, “So, is there something else that Thomas knows, that I don’t? Are there other things that I should know before we make plans.”

And Aaron can only say, “Yes.”

Alexander’s face is blank, “Which?”

“Both,” Aaron admits.

A trace of disappointment makes it through Alexander’s mask, but he just says, “Will you tell me?”

Aaron takes a deep breath, trying to remind himself that it’s not the same to give this truth to Alexander. Not if he gives it willingly, not if he trusts Alexander, “You’re right. I keep people at arm’s length. Not just you.”

Alexander says, “No. I’m just the only one you share a bed with.”

Aaron manages to keep a lid on the too honest reply that of course there had been Theodosia, and instead says, “I told you that my power is tied to words.”

Alexander nods.

Aaron goes on, bracing himself to tell a story he’s never told, “That’s for a reason.” He pauses, the ease of speaking when he’s not trying to hide is overwhelming, making him hesitate anyway, “When a child is born into a magical family there are traditions. A seer often gives a prediction of what the child will do with their life, and family members give magical gifts to help the child with that life.”

Alexander is still, but looks interested despite himself.

“When I was born, my mother gave me the gift of honesty.”

Alexander’s eyebrows are raised, skeptical given the context of this conversation, “Honesty?”

Aaron nods, “She meant it to be a kind gift, but something went wrong, she used too much force, and- And that’s why when someone like Jefferson looks at me, they see a curse.”

Alexander looks confused, “I don’t understand…”

Aaron takes a deep breath, “Alexander, have I ever lied to you?”

Alexander takes a moment, gaze unfocused, clearly running back through his memories, “Not that I- I mean, I can’t exactly know for sure, but, no. I don’t think so.”

He looks at Aaron, who just looks steadily back, until Alexander says, “So...what? You _can’t_ lie?”

And it’s done. Aaron repeats steadily, “I can’t lie.”

Alexander worries his lower lip for a minute, thinking about that, “Not even white lies, not even ‘I love your new haircut?’” He interrupts himself, “No, you never say stuff like that.” He looks at Aaron, “That’s pretty shitty.”

Aaron forces himself to go on, “I learned pretty quickly as a kid that there are a lot of truths you don’t want to share with other people, that there are a lot of truths that people don’t want you to share at all. So I learned to watch what I said.”

He could leave it there, but for Alexander he’ll say it all, “My uncle, the one who hated magic, he saw it as some sort of divine punishment. He and my aunt used to make me tell them everything. Tell them or-” There are some things Aaron doesn’t need to relive, and the pained look on Alexander’s face says he understands well enough.

“I hid parts of myself away, deep enough that they wouldn’t think to ask. The things their religion wouldn’t approve of, like not believing in their god, like…” Aaron gestures vaguely between Alexander and himself, indicating his attraction to men in an ellipse even now.

“Okay,” Alexander sounds unsettled, “That’s _really_ shitty.”

Aaron laughs.

Alexander is looking sympathetic, but Aaron forces himself to go on, to say the unsympathetic parts too, “Because of that gift, my magic got reshaped. The things I say are true, but I can also make the things I say _become_ true. That’s what you saw today. That’s what happened when I told you to stay away.”

He looks down at his own hands, “It’s- You saw Jefferson’s reaction, it’s a dangerous power.”

Alexander says softly, “That you’ve spent a lot of energy learning to control.”

Aaron isn’t sure if he deserves that forgiveness, “There’s more.”

This might be the hardest part to accept, especially after Aaron has detailed the horror of having the option of untruth taken away, “I’ve always been fascinated by lies.” He stops, and then says it in a rush, “I can almost always tell when someone is lying, not the _why,_ not the _what,_ but true or false, I can usually tell that. Especially if I know someone well.”

Alexander pales, “Me?”

Aaron looks at him steadily, “You’ve always been easy for me to read.”

Alexander blinks, “I feel like I’m going to start remembering embarrassing things really quickly, but at the moment I’m drawing a blank.”

Aaron considers, “I don’t think so. You mostly lie about whether you got enough sleep these days.”

Alexander looks rueful, “I did think you always seemed to know.” He’s looking at Aaron, contemplatively, “This is exactly what you’ve been afraid of, isn’t it? That someone would force you to share things you don’t want to share.”

Aaron looks away, his jaw feels tight, but he doesn’t answer.

“I’m sorry,” Alexander says, sounding a little lost, “I didn’t know obviously.”

Aaron nods.

Alexander takes off his glasses, and presses his hands into his eyes, roughly scrubbing at his face. He puts the glasses back on, “Is that it? I couldn’t be in a relationship with that kind of distance, and you can’t be in a relationship where someone has that power over you?”

He rushes through, not giving Aaron a chance to answer, “I wouldn’t- You can always just tell me you don’t want to answer, and that will have to be enough for me. I want you to be able to trust me.”

Aaron looks at him cautiously, the words have the clear ring of honesty, and his eyes watching Aaron are dark and pleading.

Aaron carefully says, “I want that too. And- And I want you to trust me, even though I’ve done things that- that make that difficult.”

Alexander says quickly, “I do trust you,” and inexplicably that rings true too.

A moment passes, the two of them staring at each other across the kitchen table, lit by the ancient hanging lamp that came with the house.

Finally Alexander says, “So I guess we’re back to where we started. What do we want?” He hesitates, “I can just say what I want, and you tell me whatever you want to tell me. I won’t ask any questions.”

Aaron shakes his head, “I can tell you what I want. I don’t know if- if it’s anything you want, but I can tell you.”

Alexander nods slightly, eyes fixed on Aaron’s face.

Alexander is offering Aaron an escape and Aaron isn’t going to take it, is going to offer freely what Alexander could have compelled. He does his best to meet Alexander’s gaze directly, “I want to stay with you. I want to try to make this last. I want to help you go wherever you want, do whatever you want. I love you. I want you.”

“Oh,” Alexander says, and his eyes are bright with unshed tears behind his glasses, “Aaron, I-”

Aaron’s heart is already sinking, but then Alexander reaches out, across the table, “I love you too. I want all of that,” and Aaron’s heart stops the free fall as he reaches back, leaning forward so that he can slide his fingers between Alexander’s, just holding on for a moment as the world settles around him, settles in a new, better formation.

They stay there, connected only by their hands and by their gaze, Alexander blinking back tears, and Aaron replaying the truth underlying Alexander’s words, reassuring himself that this is real, until Alexander tugs on their joined hands, “Come here.”

Aaron can’t stretch any further over the table so he gets up, careful not to let go of Alexander’s hand. Alexander stands too, and Aaron kisses him, soft at first, and then slow and deep. Alexander meets him kiss for kiss, getting as close to Aaron as he can. The edge of his glasses press into Aaron’s cheek, and Aaron reaches up, gently easing them off, leaning over lay them on Alexander’s paper.

Alexander blinks at Aaron, looking slightly blurry without them, “I love you,” he says again, as if he can’t help repeating it now that he’s allowed. He presses his lips into Aaron’s neck, and whispers it there too, the words, the resonant truth of it, the huff of his breath against Aaron’s neck, the slight scrape of his beard, all of it leave Aaron shivering, clinging to Alexander.

And, because Aaron can, he whispers back, “I love you too.” Alexander makes an impatient sound, turns his head, landing on Aaron’s mouth for another kiss, and then, still kissing, starts guiding Aaron backward out of the kitchen, toward the bedroom.

It’s not very successful, they run into the stove, the doorway, a wall, and finally, when they’ve almost fallen over nothing at all, break apart laughing. Aaron takes Alexander’s hand again, and pulls him to the bedroom. He notes that Alexander has changed the sheets, the desperation sweat of the night before lost in the hamper, then Aaron is landing on the bed, Alexander on top of him and he loses track of the details of housekeeping.

There’s something relaxed, something unhurried about the way they move together tonight, as if they know they have time, years, decades if they’re lucky, stretching before them. And after, Aaron, still rested from his long nap, watches over Alexander as he falls asleep against Aaron’s chest, running his hand over Alexander’s thick hair, and feeling unbearably lucky to have this, this moment, this possibility, this trust.

#

In the morning, Aaron and Alexander linger in bed, lazily teasing each other. Aaron’s just managed to get Alexander desperate enough to start softly pleading, brokenly whispering Aaron’s name, when Hercules knocks on the door, “Hey, please do not inform me of any activities happening behind this door, but we’re all going out for lunch, brunch, whatever in about half an hour, and you should join us.”

Aaron, raises an eyebrow at Alexander, who musters a nod. “We’ll be there,” Aaron calls, pushing his thigh more firmly against Alexander and laughing when Alexander fails to quite muffle a moan.

Hercules’s despairing, “Ugh,” can just be heard through the door, followed by rapidly retreating footsteps.

Alexander’s own laughter cuts off in a gasp, as Aaron says, “I guess we’re in a hurry now”, and wraps a hand around him.

#

At lunch, Alexander is twice as bright as usual, perhaps filling the space that his more hungover roommates are leaving open, and Aaron can barely look away from him.

Alexander, for his part, seems unwilling to be out of contact with Aaron for more than a few seconds, sitting snuggly against his side in the booth at the restaurant, and seeming most content when Aaron lays an arm along his shoulders.

After the slow recovery offered by french fries and soda has set in, Lafayette says, “You two are even sappier than usual today.”

Alexander just laughs, “Why shouldn’t we be happy?”

Aaron, with Alexander’s warm weight against his side, a future opening up before him, danger gone, answers honestly, “No reason I can think of.”

Alexander turns to him, eyes wide with surprise, and then laughs again, shining like the sun.

Hercules says, still despairing, “Ugh.”

#

A few weeks later, Alexander’s law school acceptances start rolling in, and he sorts and re-sorts them as if he hasn’t already made up his mind, as if he hadn’t been over the moon since the Harvard acceptance arrived.

Finally, he says to Aaron, “You’re sure, right? I don’t want to drag you somewhere you don’t want to go.”

Aaron takes his hand, “Boston isn’t the Yukon. I look forward to it. I do have a request, though.”

Alexander nods seriously, “Okay?”

“Can we get a bigger bed?”

Alexander stares at him for a moment, until Aaron lets his smile turn into a leer, and then he laughs, “Oh my god. Yes, Aaron, we can get a bigger bed.”

Aaron laughs with him, “Then I’m happy.”

#

The last weeks of their college career pass in a series of final papers, projects, and tests, in a flurry of bittersweet goodbye parties, one last hurrahs, parting visits to favorite shops and restaurants. Before it quite seems possible, graduation is there.

Sally comes for the ceremony, cheering just as loudly for Alexander as Aaron. After, she makes them take what seems like hundreds of photos, alone, together, and then recruits a passing classmate to take some of all three of them. She takes them out for lunch afterward, and gives them both a card with a check inside. Alexander tries to refuse, but she points at his chest and says, “Don’t be ridiculous, you’re family now.”

Alexander presses his hand over the mark on his chest, the magical sign that he’s no longer alone, and looks shaken, but happy.  

#

Aaron and Alexander have decided to move to Boston for the summer, so it’s only a few days after graduation when they pile all their possessions in Aaron’s car and set off. It seems more momentous to Aaron than just moving to a new city, it seems like they’re just setting foot on the path they’re meant to take, like the destiny that they’re supposed to have is starting to fall into place. It feels like magic.


End file.
